A Halloween-Loving Christian?
by Holly Vicente Robaina
Maybe it’s OK for me to enjoy this controversial holiday.
October 24, 2007 |
I love Halloween. It's long been my absolute favorite holiday.
I know, my favorite should be Christmas or Easter, when we celebrate Jesus and our salvation. Or even Thanksgiving, when we're grateful for all God's gifts to us. Yet I choose Halloween, the "Devil's holiday."
My love of Halloween began with sweet childhood experiences. Every year, I wore a Mom-made costume. As a toddler, I was a pink bunny in footed pajamas. Mom sewed fabric ears and used a wire hanger to make them stand up. She used her eyeliner to draw whiskers on my face. My brother, Mike, was a hobo (as were half the kids in our neighborhood). Mom used petroleum jelly to stick coffee grinds to Mike's face, creating a stubbly "beard" on his eight-year-old chin. I still smile when I look at the picture of us, me proudly showing off my bunny suit, Mike scowling about the strong coffee smell.
Dad gave us pillowcases to hold our loot, and took us door to door to collect treats. Since my parents knew everyone in the neighborhood, they let us eat the candy—and homemade popcorn balls, cookies, and cupcakes—and didn't even glance at it. We pranced around on a sugar high, laughing like hyenas.
My parents allowed us to stay up past our regular bedtime so we could sort our candy. Then we'd give Mom and Dad the first pick of our haul. Dad didn't like candy, so offering him the best of our best was a safe bet. Mom, on the other hand, loved dipping into our loot. When she reached out her hand I always winced, afraid she'd select my one and only Chick-O-Stick. But Mom never took the good stuff. She always grabbed the treats I didn't want, such as the Raisinettes, Junior Mints, or black licorice. Back then, I thought she chose these because she liked only gross candy. I now realize she picked the gross candy because she loved me.
Then some crazy people ruined Halloween by poisoning candy and sticking razor blades into caramel apples. But all wasn't lost. My childhood church saved the day by creating a Harvest Festival: a fall carnival "coincidentally" held on October 31. Our church never called it a Halloween party, but we kids knew what it was. We could still wear costumes and collect and eat candy. That annual church event took the sting out of not being able to trick-or-treat on the streets. It also became an outreach event; neighbors felt safe sending their kids to a church.
This year, I'll wear a homemade costume, as usual. But instead of being the eager kid reaching for chocolate bars, I'll be the smiling adult passing out treats at my current church's Harvest Festival. My church has allowed me to host the mini-carnival on the Sunday before Halloween for the past three years.
Serving at this event has deepened my appreciation for community. I've begun to understand "it takes a village": Every adult should serve and care for the children in the church. That concept might sound obvious or cheesy, but I suspect many childless adults, like me, rarely experience this feeling of connectedness and community within our church.
But why does Halloween need to be involved? I could—and do—serve kids year-round. Still, no other holiday feels as intergenerational to me, or as mutually beneficial to grown folks and kids. When else do 4-year-olds, 14-year-olds, and 40-year-olds put on goofy outfits, play silly games, and eat handfuls of candy together?
At last year's Harvest Festival, I grinned when I saw a member of our church worship team bob for apples. A senior citizen from the church decorated a mini-pumpkin alongside kids. Our associate pastor laughed heartily as he unsuccessfully attempted to drop clothespins into a narrow-mouthed jar. These adults provided a mighty example to the children: Fun and laughter can be lifelong experiences. As I applied green face paint on a 17-year-old girl, I thought, This is what joy and connectedness look like! This is exactly what God intended his people to experience together.
Am I being too idealistic about Halloween? I can't deny the darkness that's still prevalent, evidenced in the terrifying costumes for sale and bloody horror flicks released this time of year. I well know the holiday's history. I've read editorials on why Christians should shun the "night of evil," and I've considered the Scriptures used to defend that opinion (such as 1 Thessalonians 5:21-23, Ephesians 5:11, and Deuteronomy 18:9-13). Christians have long tried to redeem Halloween from its pagan origins through All-Saints' Day, Reformation Day, and alternative events, such as my church's Harvest Festival. I believe in continuing to try, if only to remember that even in seemingly encompassing darkness, there's a Light (John 8:12).
If God asked me to stop all observation of Halloween, I would. He hasn't, and I don't think he will. I recall how my mom used to eat the gross candies, knowing that I'd eat them just because they were there. And that I wouldn't enjoy them a bit—they'd potentially even ruin my candy-eating experience (a delectable apple Jolly Rancher followed by nasty black licorice—ew!). I believe God's picked all the grossness out of Halloween for me: its dark past, its evil ideas, its scary images. He's reminded me that he makes pumpkins, gourds, and golden autumn leaves. That he created creativity and imagination. That he loves my serving others. That he's God, and he can use even Halloween to love on his kids.
Blessings,
Holly
No comments:
Post a Comment