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By a Faithful Observer of the Liturgical Calendar
I. A Night That Was Never Ours to Lose
Every October, the pumpkin spice lattes appear, the plastic skeletons dangle from porches, and the same tired debate erupts: “Halloween is pagan!” “No, it’s Catholic!” “Actually, it’s just a candy grab!” The truth is simpler and far more interesting. Halloween—properly All Hallows’ Eve—is Catholic down to its bones. The vigil of All Saints’ Day, it was once the Church’s front porch to the greatest feast of the liturgical year. Somewhere along the way, the porch got redecorated with witches and superheroes, and the saints were asked to wait in the vestibule.
But the porch is being reclaimed. From Rome to rural parishes, from TikTok catechists to Vatican-approved exorcists, the Catholic Church is taking back Halloween—not with pitchforks and holy water (though those have their place), but with candles, hymns, and an unapologetic invitation: Come home. The vigil is yours.
II. The Historical Receipt
Let’s start with the paper trail. The word “Halloween” is a contraction of “All Hallows’ Even,” the eve of All Hallows’ (Saints’) Day. The feast itself traces to the dedication of the Pantheon in Rome on May 13, 609, when Pope Boniface IV consecrated the former temple to “St. Mary and All Martyrs.” By the 8th century, Pope Gregory III moved the celebration to November 1, likely to Christianize existing harvest festivals in northern Europe. Gregory IV extended it universally in 835.
The vigil—October 31—followed naturally. Medieval Catholics kept All Hallows’ Eve with prayer, fasting, and the ringing of church bells to remind the living to pray for the dead. “Soul cakes” were baked and distributed: a pastry for a Pater Noster. Children went door-to-door not for Snickers but for prayer. The dead were the evening’s VIPs; the saints were the headliners the next morning.
The Reformation dimmed the lights. Puritans in England and later America despised the “popish” focus on saints and purgatory. Halloween survived in Catholic strongholds—Ireland, Bavaria, Mexico—but in the Anglosphere it drifted into folk custom: bonfires, turnip lanterns, guising. By the 20th century, American commercialism had sanded off the last explicitly Christian edges. The vigil became a children’s costume parade sponsored by candy companies.
Rome never forgot. The 1969 Calendar of the Roman Rite retained November 1 as a solemnity and November 2 (All Souls’) as a day of obligatory prayer for the dead. The vigil, though not a liturgical day in the strict sense, remained the cultural hinge between the two.
III. The Modern Reclamation Project
The push to “take back” Halloween began in earnest in the 1990s, but it has accelerated since the 2010s. Three forces converged:
1. Liturgical renewal post-Vatican II
2. The internet’s ability to bypass gatekeepers
3. A generation of young Catholics hungry for identity
A. From the Pulpit to the Pumpkin Patch
In 2006, the U.S. bishops’ conference issued no directive, but individual dioceses began experimenting. The Archdiocese of Detroit hosted “Saints and S’mores” block parties. Orange County’s Christ Cathedral turned its parking lot into a “Holyween” festival with bounce houses shaped like Noah’s Ark. The formula: costumes must depict a saint, a virtue, or a biblical figure; candy remains non-negotiable.
By 2015, the trend had a name—“Holyween”—coined by Fr. Eduardo “Lalo” García in Spain. His parish in Seville replaced horror movies with a candlelit rosary procession through the cemetery. The event went viral on YouTube; within three years, over 200 Spanish parishes replicated it.
Rome noticed. In 2018, the Dicastery for Laity, Family and Life tweeted (yes, tweeted):
> “All Hallows’ Eve is not the devil’s night. It is the Church’s vigil. Light a candle for the dead. Dress as the saint you wish to imitate. Holyween”
The tweet garnered 42,000 retweets and a ratio of zero. Even the trads liked it.
B. The Influencer Saints
Catholic TikTok—derided as an oxymoron—became the unexpected vanguard. Accounts like @frmikeschmitz, @catholic.chemist, and @sister_therese exploded with “What Saint Should You Dress As?” quizzes. One video—Sr. Bethany Madonna teaching kids to carve the Chi-Rho into pumpkins—racked up 3.2 million views.
The aesthetic matters. Gone are the bed-sheet ghosts; in are the velvet mantles and cardboard mitres. A cottage industry of “saint costume kits” now ships from Etsy shops run by homeschool moms in Wisconsin. The most popular: St. Joan of Arc (armor sold separately), St. Francis (habit + stuffed wolf), and the sleeper hit, Bl. Carlo Acutis in a red hoodie.
C. The Exorcist Seal of Approval
In 2021, Fr. Chad Ripperger—former exorcist, Thomist, and unofficial patron of Catholic Twitter—released a 45-minute YouTube talk titled “Halloween and the Demonic.” He didn’t call for abolition; he called for re-consecration. “The devil,” he said, “hates a fair fight. Give him All Saints’ instead of All Scares.”
The talk was viewed 1.1 million times. Parishes began offering “Ripperger-approved” alternatives:
- Vigil Mass at 5 p.m. followed by eucharistic adoration until midnight
- Cemetery processions with the Dies Irae sung in chant
- Blessing of costumes (yes, the priest sprinkles holy water on the cardboard sword)
IV. Global Variations on a Theme
The reclamation is not monochrome.
Mexico: Día de los Muertos, Catholicized
The Synod on Synodality’s 2023 working document cited Mexico’s fusion of Allhallowtide and indigenous ancestor veneration as a model of inculturation. Ofrendas now routinely include images of the Sacred Heart alongside sugar skulls.
Philippines: Pangangaluluwa
Children dressed as souls in purgatory go door-to-door singing traditional Tagalog hymns asking for prayers. The custom, nearly extinct in the 1980s, has been revived by the CBCP’s youth ministry.
Poland: Zaduszki Processions
Kraków’s annual “Night of the Saints” sees 40,000 pilgrims walk from church to church, each station dedicated to a different saint. Local police close the streets; Uber surges, but no one complains.
V. The Theology Beneath the Tinsel
Why does any of this matter? Because Halloween, properly understood, is a dress rehearsal for the eschatological drama.
- Memento mori: The jack-o’-lantern began as a turnip carved to hold a coal, guiding souls. It is the original paschal candle.
- Communion of saints: Costumes are not escapism; they are imitatio Christi in miniature.
- Purgatory: The vigil reminds us that death is not the end, but the corridor. Praying for the dead is the original social justice.
As Benedict XVI wrote in Spe Salvi (§48):
> “The belief that love can reach into the afterlife… is a faith capable of turning the world upside down.”
Halloween, reclaimed, turns the world right side up.
VI. Practical Guide: How Your Parish Can Join the Movement
1. Rename the Event
Drop “Trunk-or-Treat.” Call it “All Hallows’ Eve Vigil” or “Saints’ Block Party.”
2. Costume Rules (Enforced with Charity)
- Saints, angels, biblical figures, virtues (e.g., “Humility” in sackcloth)
- No demons, no serial killers, no “sexy nun” (obviously)
- Provide a “Saint Swap” table for kids who show up as Spider-Man.
3. Liturgical Anchors
- 4:30 p.m. Vigil Mass for All Saints (anticipated)
- 6:00 p.m. Rosary walk through the cemetery
- 7:30 p.m. Bonfire with soul-cake distribution and storytelling (lives of the saints, not ghost stories)
4. Soul Cakes Recipe (Medieval, Tested)
```
2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cinnamon
½ cup butter
½ cup milk
2 eggs
Cross the tops with a knife. Bake 15 min at 350°F.
```
5. Digital Integration
Live-stream the procession. Tag Holyween. Watch the algorithm do the evangelization.
VII. Pushback and How to Answer It
“You’re baptizing paganism!”
The Church has been baptizing culture since Peter preached in the Areopagus. Samhain’s bonfires become paschal fires; the harvest feast becomes the banquet of heaven.
“Kids just want candy!”
Give them candy and a saint card. The stomach is a gateway to the soul.
“It’s cultural appropriation to police costumes.”
Catholicism is a culture. Reclaiming your own vigil isn’t appropriation; it’s repatriation.
VIII. A Personal Testimony
Last year, I took my skeptical eight-year-old to our parish’s first Holyween. He wanted to be a ninja. We compromised: St. Ignatius of Loyola, covert Jesuit operative. He carried a cardboard sword inscribed Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam. At the bonfire, an elderly widow pressed a soul cake into his hand and whispered, “That’s for my husband in purgatory.” My son—cape askew, face smeared with cinnamon—nodded solemnly. The ninja had become a soldier of Christ without noticing the transition.
That is the quiet genius of the reclamation: it doesn’t scold; it seduces. The saints are cooler than superheroes because they’re real. Heaven is scarier than hell because it’s permanent. And the Church, for one October night, gets to throw the best party on the block.
IX. The Future: A Vigil for the Digital Age
Imagine All Hallows’ Eve 2030:
- AR filters that overlay your costume with the saint’s relics in real time
- Global synchronized bell-ringing at 9 p.m. local time, tracked on a Vatican dashboard
- A “Purgatory Meter” app where users log prayers and watch a virtual flame burn brighter
The technology will change. The vigil will not. Because every year, on the last night of October, the Church whispers the same dare to the darkness: We know how this story ends. The saints win.
X. Conclusion: Light the Lantern
The Catholic Church is not “taking back” Halloween in a hostile sense. She is simply opening the door she never locked. The vigil was always hers; the culture wandered off. Now the wanderers are returning—some in Kente-cloth St. Martin de Porres robes, some in LED-lit Bl. Carlo hoodies, some pushing strollers with infants dressed as the Holy Innocents.
If you meet them on the sidewalk this October 31, don’t scowl at the princess or the Pokémon. Look closer. Under the glitter and the plastic fangs, the communion of saints is marching in plain sight. Hand them a soul cake. Say a prayer. Ring the bell.
The porch light is on. The saints are home.
Happy All Hallows’ Eve.
See you at the vigil.
