I remember learning, late in high school, that the name “Halloween” was an incarnation of “Hallowed-Eve.” With minimal knowledge of the liturgical calendar, and no understanding that the “eve” in question was the night before All Saint’s Day (November 1st ), the whole thing puzzled me. But at least I could dissect the word.
Cranking forward decades, I recalled this long-ago revelation while ambling through our church’s Trunk or Treat on Wednesday evening. It was a sweet affair, not large, with around 12 “trunks” opened and decorated, some minimally, some extravagantly. Granddaughter Patti contributed massively to her Sunday School teacher’s pick-up-truck décor built around a tall, blowup dragon belching smoke. In fact, Patti brought so many Harry Potter nicknacks, books, figures, and Hogwarts’-emblazoned fabrics that she and her brother carted a side table from the church office to set up what amounted to a “Harry-Potter museum.” I confess to feeling an bit of satisfaction seeing her collection of paraphernalia artfully assembled with a visible purpose.
You too likely have watched the Trunk or Treat develop in your church parking lots and community centers. Adults have stepped up to the plate to offer today’s children a safer option to roaming their neighborhoods on Halloween. Initially a skeptic, I now applaud these events because the candy “takings” seem measured and the décor is creative and fun (including bean-bag tosses, spinning-wheel games, and the like). For church congregations, it may be the best chance for the “7:30,” “9:30,” and “11:00” folks to meet one another.
Still, the need for these events is a sad commentary on our times, particularly if you are old enough to remember Halloween as a delicious, simple event designed for children (rather than the today’s $10+ billion bash marketed equally to adults). How I long for the days when we kids would spend hours conjuring up our homemade garb, from paper bags and sheets with eye-holes, to wraps of our moms’ “gypsy” scarves, topped off by clipped hoop earrings. It sounds like a nostalgia-screed, I know, but we really did shoot out the front door the minute it got dark enough (Child: “Can I go now?” Mother: “No, it’s not dark yet.”). Released in euphoria, we found each other pouring out of our respective homes, glued ourselves into tribes, and joyfully roamed the neighborhoods for a good two hours—three if you went with your older brothers or sisters.
No one trailed behind us on foot or in a car. No one was worried, since we were known by all of the neighbors, even several streets away. Beyond that, we knew better than to do something stupid. Punishments for our stupidities, back then, were swift and painful. Plus, the glee of freedom and haul of candy was our goal, not trouble.
No staged Trunk or Treat event in a church parking lot can replicate that fun. Of course, today’s children do not know that kind of fun, so they don’t miss it. And maybe that’s just as well.
Still, something important has been lost. And it isn’t limited to the loss of darting unbridled through spooky shadows on October 31st. Increasingly we are waking up to the brigade of life-experiences that no longer shape today’s children. Spontaneous neighborhood ballgames, unsupervised play at the park, tree-climbing and bike riding, and unruly board-games (with made-up rules) on the front porch: the end of these things has affected the development of our youth, leaving them less confident, less creative, and less fulfilled. If I had an easy solution, I’d offer it. But I don’t.
Whatever you will choose to do this Hallowed Evening, may it be fun with a homespun element to it. The lure in our house is supposed to be carving pumpkins (if I can still find any) and making popcorn balls, a.k.a. globby messes that we can pass off as popcorn balls. Once it’s dark, we will make a pass to a few good neighbors, primarily to waft under the grandkids’ noses a sliver of that delicious freedom found racing through the dark in costume. Then we’ll come back for a karo syrup-induced coma.
This year, with All Saint’s Day on a Friday, the bulk of the liturgical commemoration for All Saint’s Day, in our parish, will be held on Sunday, with All Soul’s Day properly celebrated on Saturday. And then, just like that, it’s November. Little bags of fresh cranberries have already appeared in the stores. Sweet potatoes will go on sale soon. And the blindingly vivid red and orange leaves that dazzle our eyes today in piedmont North Carolina project a false boldness: they know that a single rainstorm or high wind will strip them to the ground.
When that does happen, curtains of color will disappear to reveal a ballet of black and grey of tree limbs. I, for one, will rejoice in the copious amount of light that can blast, unencumbered, through our windows.
A blessed All-Hallows Eve to you and your families, along with a meaningful commemoration of All Saints, and comforting celebration of All Souls. The liturgical year in Western Christianity is coming to a close. Advent and a new church year are on the horizon.
Each one of your posts leaves me very glad that I took the time to read it! Thank you, Carol!