Trick or treat. Smell my feet. Give me something good to eat. If you don’t, I don’t care. I’ll pull down your underwear. Woah — maybe I wouldn’t go that far, but I am ‘dead’ serious about Halloween. Among the dominant (American) holidays, Halloween sticks out like a sore pumpkin. It lacks a prototypical communal or religious element, like many other notable festivities, instead imbuing celebration with an individualistic and distinctively subversive tilt. To examine this proclaimed Christian and historically pagan holiday from a Jewish perspective: On all other holiday nights, we celebrate joy and contentment, but on this night we celebrate fear. Why is this night different from all other nights?
The literal prescription of Halloween appears quite unhelpful in pursuit of this answer, belying the actual practice and mythos surrounding the holiday. “Halloween” is linguistically and theologically derived from the Catholic holiday of “Hallowmas,” literally “Hallowe’en” — “holy evening.” As unholy an eve as it has become, Halloween was indeed originally Catholicized, serving as a precursor to All Saints Day. Early trick-or-treaters were “soulers,” offering prayers of salvation for dead relatives in return for money or food — the most common being “soul cakes” which were made with ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg and raisin confectionaries impressed with a cross. While the equity of this exchange is debatable, the inextricable relationship between religious transcendence and death is evident in this practice, entwining the holy and profoundly unholy in a singular, sacred yet simultaneously irreverent night.
However, ancient Celtic pagan traditions, for the most part, underlie the tricks and treats that captivate Halloweeners today. The massive bonfire at Tlachtga, in Ireland, drew people (and bats) from miles around, symbolizing a unified, engaged community much in the same way that particularly spendthrift decorations and candy indicate generous and trusting neighbors. Costumes were similarly a tool for transformation, either allowing Celts to imitate the demons roaming the living world or, in a wintery twist, German-American children to disguise their identities from adults — “belsnickeling” their way to sweet treats upon success. Modern costumes trend more superhero than demon, yet the principle of transformation remains the same with children escaping beyond their individual identities into something more — an amorphous, genderless or potentially inhuman “other.”
Treats are an obvious addition to any good holiday — any excuse for saccharine indulgence is always welcome and was certainly benefited by the emergence of small, wrapped candies in the 1950s. However, the inclusion of tricks proves to be more of an enigma. Early on, “tricks” plagued small American towns as people targeted public buildings that could not partake in “Treat or Trick.” Homeowners of today need not fear life or limb, yet this element of trickery still persists within Halloween culture. There is a sense of risk, roguery and general mischief that courses through the veins of any true-blooded trick-or-treater, emboldening them to rebel against the typical. Indeed, this manifests in both the beautiful, like the freedom to subvert the constraints of gender, and the horrific, like the prevalent mocking of minorities through racist costuming. Maybe confining this rebellious spirit to a single night allows the established normal to maintain its firm hold for the remainder of the ordinary year, explaining the coincidence of Halloween’s rise with industrialization and the subsequent restrictive gendering of mass-produced costumes. But, staying true to the holiday’s pagan roots, that signature defiance and deviance can exist outside of the human; it can meld fright and joy as we accept and mock death. Revolt against your life: Have a happy Halloween!
