A Hallowed Eve

Mimi was my surrogate grandmother all the years I was growing up.  She was born in St. Raphael, France, near Nice. Born of a second-generation Italian father and a French mother, she was devoutly Roman Catholic and was proud to have been born on Nov. 1, All Saints Day.  Mimi was the constant loving presence in my often unpredictable and confusing childhood. It was because of Mimi that I know what God’s unconditional love means, since that’s how she loved me. That kind of love has sustained me to this day, often carrying me over very troubled waters. She was and still is for me, truly a saint. Mimi died three weeks before my first child was born, a daughter whom we named Mimi.

When I was in France eighteen years ago, I traveled to St. Raphael to visit  her birthplace. While there, I went to the Town Hall to see if there were any living relatives of her family. In the process, I received a copy of Mimi’s birth certificate. The date of her birth was recorded as October 31, 1883. or, Hallowe’en.

Surely, there must be some mistake, I thought. Mimi had been so proud of her birth date. Then it occurred to me: her very devout parents had been ashamed of her birth date (or was it the priest who christened her?), since it smacked of paganism, and so they changed it by a day. I am fairly sure that Mimi never knew. But how ironic it has turned out to be! Since Hallowe’en, or All Hallows’ Eve, is, in fact, one of the oldest sacred rituals in human history and I believe Mimi would have been proud to be associated with it.

Hallowe’en has its roots in the pre-Christian Celtic autumn harvest festival called Samhain (pronounced Saw-hen). On Samhain, it is said, the veil between the two worlds is the thinnest, and on that night, the spirits of those who have gone before are very present to the living. At the festival, food from the harvest bounty is offered to the spirit ancestors. From this holy time comes our tradition of dressing up as ghosts, goblins and things that go bump in the night, going door to door to receive goodies.

In the early centuries of the Church, missionaries were sent to eliminate pagan practices like Samhain. Yet upon discovering that the ancient practices were not so easily abandoned, in 601 Pope Gregory the First instructed his missionaries to incorporate them. Thus, Samhain became All Saints Day, a Christian feast day to honor the great cloud of witnesses who have gone before us. Pretty much what the Celts believed about Samhain.

Which is exactly why I believe that Hallowe’en/All Saints Day is a sacred time. In remembering its roots as the day when spirits of those we have loved but have died are present to us, aren’t we confessing our faith that there is life beyond death? Handing out candy to trick or treaters may not appear to be a holy act, but if we remember that the tradition came from offering gifts of our bounty, are we not giving thanks for the earth’s generosity and sharing that with neighbor, as we are called to do?

On All Saints Day I will give thanks for my dear old Mimi, who embodied God’s unconditional love and generosity, and who will feel even more present to me then at any other time of the year. And on Tuesday, I will welcome children to my door to receive handfuls of candy. Both will remind me of the ancient festival that celebrates the bounty of God’s good earth and a love which survives even death.