Samhain.
Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.
~ Carl Jung
Samhain (pronounced SAH-win) is an ancient Celtic celebration on November 1 that, half-way between the autumnal equinox and the winter solstice, marks the movement into the darkest time of the year. This festival was combined with a fourth-century feast for Christian martyrs and, by the Middle Ages, became an extended three-day event called Hallowtide: All Hallows Eve (Oct 31), All Saints Day (Nov 1), and All Souls Day (Nov 2). And then, inevitably, it was commercialized by America as Halloween and exported around the world. Because that’s what we do.
These days it’s a pretty sanitized kidward romp of superhero and princess costumes and sugar-highs. I confess that I enjoyed watching my grandson Briar dress up as Spiderman at his school’s Trunk & Treat last night and collect a dentist’s-paradise of candies. I even tried a few. In the old days, though, it was a little more weighty. On the one hand it was a celebration of the final harvest of the summer—a true rejoicing at God’s provision and a reorientation toward preparations for winter. I appreciate this marking of seasons and conscious embodiment of the rhythm of life and the fundamentals of food and fire, community and remembrance.
On the other hand, this “twilight” between summer and winter tapped our most primal fears of darkness and loss and death. It was recognized as a time of year when all the world became a “thin place” between the living and the departed… which invited various responses. Some confronted their fears of evil spirits with self-protective strategies; others honored the saints of the church with colorful, energetic merrymaking and prayers; still others soberly remembered and interceded for their ancestors. If today’s version is fun and frothy, theirs was thoughtful and a bit more serious.
Our particular appreciation of the Christian Celtic tradition at The Vining Center arises out of the sense that these ancient practices, born of the brilliance and brokenness of their era, have something timely to offer our current culture with its modern brilliance and brokenness. So while we are largely free from oppressive superstitions, we yet bear the cost of our superficiality and casualness, substituting entertainment and comfort for true reflection upon that which binds us to one another, to the earth, and to the divine.
Rather than waste energy decrying Halloween or skimming blithely across its surface, may I invite us toward real meaning-making? Below are a few options that come to mind on Hallowtide, and you may want to widen the possibilities. If you do, please share your thoughts in the comments section.
growing your soul
Build your own bonfire to celebrate the seasonal shift with friends and family. In the midst of food and laughter, offer the group a few discussion questions around light and darkness, the role of community in today’s world, or your relationship with fear.
Use the dinnertable to share memories of grandparents and greatgrandparents you remember. What is their legacy? What would they want for you as you build your own legacy?
With a spouse or trusted spiritual friend, get in touch with your deepest fears—not of ghouls and goblins but of your genuine concerns and anxieties. Verbalize them in a safe place, not for solving but for mutual presencing and prayerful hope.
serving our world
With Thanksgiving dinner just around the corner, plan now to invite someone who is physically disabled, family displaced, emotionally depressed, or in their last years of life.
Incorporate time in your faith community for conscious silence and intercessory prayer for places of war and darkness.
Normalize mental health struggles with more support for people you know who wrestle with their own personal darkness.
takeaway
Thoughtful boo.