By Leo Sandon • Religion In America • October 31, 2009
Original Post
I remember putting on an impressive African mask and greeting trick-or-treaters while crawling on the floor and growling, my wife cautioning me not to scare the children.
For years I carved the largest and most intricate jack-o'-lanterns you can imagine. In both New England and Tallahassee we made candied apples until the swelling streams of children flooded us out of that enterprise.
Several years, as I accompanied my respective sons on their trick-or-treat rounds, I would have one of them hold out a cup and ask an adult friend to provide a little something to drink "for my daddy." When it came to Halloween we got with the program. Perhaps a bit too much.
I guess that I should have become an apologist for Halloween during the 1980s in this column, in talks to service clubs, and in the classroom. You may remember that Halloween was under attack by many conservative Christians who deemed it a pagan observance with which believers should have no truck. Pressure was put on elementary schools to close down Halloween celebrations, replacing them with fall festival emphases. One Tallahassee elementary school principal ruled it was OK to dress in a witch's costume, but there was to be no casting of spells.
In the meantime when I spoke of witchcraft — Wicca — in my "Religion in America" class, I would try to erase some of the 300 years of bad press witches have received. I told students that most witches, male and female, that I have been around or interviewed were gentle, irenic persons who had a love of nature and its cycles.
I suggested that the church was on to something when it designated a Nov. 1 Celtic holy day that predated Christianity to be All Saints Day. This was the beginning of the Celtic New Year, the occasion for the return of the dead and the visitation of evil spirits to mark the season of diminishing sunlight. The ancient English name for the eve of All Saints Day was All Hallows Eve.
I told the students about a Halloween party we had once at a church in which I was the pastor. Children came in full costume including masks. We did the usual Halloween rites such as apple-bobbing. There were prizes awarded for the best costumes.
We concluded with a service in the chapel that made the point that we wear different masks at different times throughout the year, but masks do not work with God. The children took off their masks and laid them on the altar. Merely one example in which one religious consciousness can transform the meaning of another.
These days I perceive that Halloween has made a comeback. There is less criticism of the observance as a pagan Trojan horse. More young adults seem to be into Halloween parties. Costumes are more common. I approve.
As for us we are now in the period of downsizing. The jack-o'-lanterns will be smaller and simpler, though still carved from real pumpkins. Trick-or-treaters still will be welcome — if they don't stop by too late.
Remember there is a certain spiritual truth that both ancient Celtic and contemporary faith communities recognize: The dead do come back. They visit us and not just on Oct. 31.
Deceased friends and loved ones as well as enemies have a way of haunting us. I still find myself wanting to make yet another point in my ongoing conversation with my mother, and I have unfinished business with my father. And, collectively, our relationship with those who have gone before us is just as real: Their works follow them, shaping our lives by blessing and curse.
Keep the curses and demons at bay tonight; celebrate the blessings of the beloved community tomorrow.
Leo Sandon is professor emeritus of religion and American studies at Florida State. E-mail him at
lsandon@fsu.edu.
Halloween may be making a comeback 
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