Halloween; Tricks, Treats and my mother's jug

There's something about the trick or treat and the horror film and the ghouls that stalk the shopping malls that reflect a strange satire on the medieval fear that people had of death. This does go back to Samhain, the Celtic festival,, when it was believed people returned from the dead, in disguise sometimes to demand offerings, and so the children wandering around the doors looking for sweeties and money as they stand and play tin whistles in masks resembling demons, is certainly a touch of nostalgia for that long ago Celtic Festival. And the lighting of ritual fires and the the games in the houses were all similar remnants of ancient days.

But that was a time when people believed in many gods, and feared that gods were not just multifarious but capricious and often not the best company for humans. it was a time when people didn't know what caused the storms and the changes in weather, the weakening sun in the winter sky or the death of children from disease they as yet did not understand.

But what I like about the Christian input into this festival is the sense that we are reassured that the universe is a singularity and that the ground of all being is a personal presence, a mysterious otherness that knows the hairs of our head before we were born and loves us. That the universe loves us is a wisdom that gathers not just us but those who have passed beyond this life into the shadow of death and allows us to hope in a place of refuge deep beyond this visible reality, a place where we and our loved ones are even now united in God's presence. That's a big hopeful idea underneath the darkness of winter. So for me this November is a time of sheltering. A time of hibernation and stillness. A time of paying attention to the peace that underpins all reality. my memory is of my mother in the kitchen on the eve of All Souls Day more usually, acting out a ritual of love and connection with her ancestors.

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