An Overcooked Halloween Stew

If you're anything like me, Halloween starts sometime in late September, when the kids start asking about costumes and when the zombie baby stores start resurrecting in empty store pads.

I absolutely hate zombie babies. (I know. I said I don't really hate anything. But I hate zombie babies.)

My husband would transform our house into a haunted maze if he could, and for years and years and years and years he has talked about wanting to open a real haunted house corn maze thing for reals. I vacillate between encouraging him to go ahead and try to make that a reality and just doing the uh-huh-can-you-go-find-the-plastic-pumpkins thing.

He has a couple of pretty scary ghoul things that I make him take to work because I find them too gruesome. He has also collected a couple of borderline scary pirate skeleton gadgets that talk on motion sensor, and are kind of funny, unless you are a two- or three-year old who is both fascinated and repulsed by said gadgets. One of the pirate skeleton heads goads you along and croaks- "closer, come closer, closer" and then when you're close enough, it does this maniacal holler/laughing "nanny nanny boo boo" thing. It's creepy. And hilarious. My husband proudly displays his little collection all over the entry to the house, and then my three-year-old avoids the front door all month until "the closers" are gone. I would prefer cutesy ghosts and spiders and bats and that kind of thing, but allowing a little scary here and there is just a concession I've made over the years.

Terrifying. Look away.

 When I was a kid, my mom made great costumes and my dad would take us around the neighborhood to trick or treat. Mom made chili and garlic bread and out we went. I always intended to continue that tradition, and for the most part, that's the basis for what we now do. We gather with friends and family, have chili and cornbread and dress in costumes from a party store or second-hand store. We stop first at our neighbor's house, where the elderly lady who lives there proudly gives each of the kids a personalized treat bag and beer to the parents. Hilarious. Then we descend upon the 'hood in a group of 15 to 25, weaving our way down to grandma and papa's house. Their house is the last stop, and we collapse there while the kids re-enact the Wall Street trading floor with chaotic candy trading. It's great.

However.

There was a time when it was proposed to me, specifically and personally, that any Halloween celebrations were in league with the devil, trick-or-treating was a nod of support to a high holiday of the occult, and that as a Catholic, I should denounce all Halloween festivities altogether. I was a young mom, and I was given a children's book about why Christians should not participate in any Halloween festivities, no matter how benign they seemed. I was engulfed by a current which would not even utter the word "Halloween," favoring "All Saints Eve" or "All Hallows Eve" and the like. (And no, it did not seem to matter that these phrases meant THE EXACT SAME thing as "Halloween." The word "Halloween" was awkwardly and deliberately avoided in conversation.) It was heavily suggested that my tiny family should not begin a tradition of trick-or-treating and Halloween decor, in favor of purely saint-oriented activities, since "All Hallows Eve" was the evening before the Catholic feast of All Saints Day. (On All Saints Day, Catholics call to mind all saints living and dead, and then proceed to honor All Souls Day the next day.) I was young, I did begin to try to conform to the expectation very clearly placed in front of me, but I was extremely uncomfortable doing it. I just did not agree that my mom's chili, a Princess Lea costume, and a butterfinger were evil.

Even so, as my "good girl" pattern often dictated, I tried this anti-Halloween thing out once. One year about 15 years back, we put wings on our little girl so she would be an angel and went to a Halloween alternative "saint" party on "All Hallows Eve." There were little ring toss games and bowling games all with Catholic themes (i.e. knock down the seven deadly sins and you win or name the saint games.) I found the whole thing very divisive, because I sensed a very clear "WeEEee don't go trick or treating or celebrate 'Halloween.' WeEEee celebrate All Hallows Eve and we are very holy for doing so." Maybe that's likely not what everyone there was intending, but it was what I perceived. My head was a whirlwind of thoughts but I went through the motions with everyone else, clapping with glee when a kid tossed three balls in three jars labeled Jealousy, Envy, and Gluttony. Eventually, I found my courage, and I had one of those pivotal moments where I decided this was not the path I would choose. After about an hour, I shoved a wand in my angel's hand, told her she was now a fairy, and we went trick or treating.

For the record, I think saint parties are fine and Catholic themed games are just fine. I love learning about saints, and actually, some of them would make for a really gruesome costume. (Alas, no St. Lucy's eyeballs on a plate at that saint party though.) What I didn't like, was that I felt forced to default to the anti-Halloween mindset because MY Halloween trick-or-treating tradition was suddenly being labeled by another as akin to the demonic.

There's so much more to unpack here. I can't possibly do it all at once, but for starters:

Sorry pagans and occultists, Halloween is a CATHOLIC holiday.(Although plenty of American celebrate it as a "uniquely American tradition" and attach no religious significance to it whatsoever. Costume parties and candy work just fine within a secular context.) Here's one of 8 million articles about it. I always found it ironic that we were, at that time,  discouraged from Halloween traditions by other Catholics.
--and--
Much of modern anti-Halloween sentiment is actually rooted in anti-CATHOLIC sentiment. Here's another of 8 million articles on that. It's totally crazy that when some Catholics are favoring "Harvest" parties over Halloween parties, they are actually emulating a tradition that definitely has pagan roots.

As far as I'm concerned, if you claim to be anti-Halloween and won't dress up or trick or treat because of what occultists have attached to Halloween, and yes that is a reality, that's fine. (You're actually anti-occult, not anti-Halloween. That's good. So am I.) But you better pray against that just as hard on every other night of the year as well, because evil doesn't rear its ugly head on one "big" night and then go away. If you believe Jesus conquers all, then believe it 365 days of the year. Jesus isn't a 364 day warranty that runs out every Halloween. Don't equate me or anyone else with the devil's cohort because I dress my kid as Buzz Lightyear and hand out snickers, and because we're a close target.

After that year, I made no apologies for celebrating Halloween the way we wanted. I empathize with those who fear Halloween, but I will not pretend to be one of them, even in the midst of many people who loudly denounce the holiday. I don't like the super-gory and super-slutty direction some secular traditions have ventured into, and we avoid those elements of Halloween.

On Halloween, we dress up our houses and ourselves, we're little bit scary and lotta bit funny, we make chili and wander around the neighborhood big and small, and we laugh as the big kids teach the little ones to say "trick or treat." We get a little scared here and there, and then we follow up with telling the kids about how fear is always conquerable. We laugh at the dark and spooky. We go to Mass the next day and spend two days honoring friends and family who have passed away, and we spend time thinking about our souls and praying for all dead and alive. Sounds pretty Catholic if you ask me.