Episode 28 – What We Celebrate, What We Repeat, and Why It Matters

Halloween is one of those topics Christians disagree on.

Some churches celebrate it. Some don’t. Some hold Halloween-style events but call them something else.

And that’s one thing I don’t like.

Churches have fall festivals with costumes, pumpkin carving, games, and candy. They hold trunk-or-treat events where children go from car to car collecting treats, but they avoid the word Halloween.

I understand the desire to provide a safe, family-friendly alternative to a popular secular holiday. I’ve done something similar. I pass out candy to the children who come to our door, and I’ve even organized our neighborhood’s Halloween event so children have a safe way to go trick-or-treating.

So this is not a message about refusing to participate in anything that happens on October 31.

But we should be honest about what we’re doing. If an event includes costumes, pumpkins, decorations, and children collecting candy, another name doesn’t necessarily make it something else.

It reminds me of when I was a child and a local Catholic church held weekly bingo games—but they called the game “Guest.” I was told they did that because bingo was considered gambling and gambling was illegal.

But it was still the same game, played with cards and numbers on ping-pong balls drawn at random. Changing the name didn’t change the activity.

Halloween isn’t that simple. It has a complicated history. The word comes from All Hallows’ Eve, the evening before the Christian observance of All Saints’ Day.

Some Halloween customs were influenced by Samhain [Sah-win], which is an ancient Celtic festival that marked the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter. People believed the boundary between the physical world and the spirit world became thin and that spirits could return. So they lit bonfires and sometimes wore disguises to protect themselves from harmful spirits or to keep those spirits from recognizing them.

Over time, those customs blended with Christian observances and other traditions, which makes Halloween’s history more complicated than simply labeling it a pagan holiday.

And most children asking for candy are not thinking about ancient Celtic religious practices.

Halloween is not a minor part of our culture. The National Retail Federation estimated record spending of more than 13 billion dollars on Halloween in 2025.

I know Christians who see Halloween as good, clean fun. I know others who believe celebrating it is a sin. And plenty fall somewhere in the middle.

But here’s what I don’t like about Halloween, from both a faith and a secular perspective:

It glorifies darkness, fear, and death.

Not every part does that. A child dressed as a princess, firefighter, or cartoon character is not celebrating evil. A smiling pumpkin is not glorifying violence.

But much of the imagery is deliberately built around death, demons, cruelty, blood, and terror. Houses and businesses create frightening displays. Haunted attractions invite people to pay to be terrified. Children learn that fright can be fun.

There’s a difference between helping children face their fears and teaching them to seek fear as entertainment.

I also know of churches that host haunted houses around Halloween, attempting to frighten people with images of death and hell so they’ll accept Christ.

I understand the intention. Sin is real. Judgment is real. Eternity matters. Christians should not avoid those truths.

But I don’t think you can scare people into genuine faith.

I don’t think Jesus wants us to accept him as our Savior primarily because we don’t want to go to hell.

Yes, he offers eternal salvation. But he also invites us into reconciliation with God. He offers forgiveness, freedom from the power of sin, a transformed life, and a relationship shaped by truth, grace, love, and obedience.

Genuine faith is more than being frightened enough to say the right words.

Romans 2:4 says that God’s kindness is intended to lead us to repentance.

That does not mean ignoring judgment or sin’s consequences. It means terror should not be the foundation of someone’s relationship with God.

There’s something almost ironic to me about the date of Halloween.

Halloween is October 31. The next day is All Saints’ Day, when Christians remember the faithful who have completed their earthly lives and are now with Christ.

I’ve never been part of a church that made a huge event out of All Saints’ Day. Usually, on the Sunday following November 1, the service includes recognition of congregation members who died during the preceding year by simply reading a list of names and maybe lighting a candle or ringing a bell.

But even though it only takes a few minutes, I value that special, intentional time of remembering those who have joined the Church Triumphant.

Think about it. One observance—Halloween—often turns death into entertainment. The other—All Saints’ Day—faces death honestly but remembers it through the promise of resurrection.

I don’t expect every Christian to reach the same conclusion I have about costumes, candy, school parties, or neighborhood events. We each have to think it through, pray about it, and decide where we stand.

But whatever conclusion we reach, it ought to be honest.

Changing the name of an event doesn’t automatically change the activity. And calling something harmless doesn’t mean we should stop thinking about what it celebrates, what it teaches children to enjoy, or what picture of faith it presents.

Halloween focuses our attention on darkness, fear, and death.

All Saints’ Day reminds us that death does not have the final word.

And perhaps that’s where the Christian emphasis belongs—not on making darkness more entertaining, but on bearing witness to the light that overcomes it.

When we come back, we’ll shift from the traditions we celebrate to the things we repeat—and look at the difference between habits and rituals.