Observing Hallowtide
and two more days to enter to win a free book
Today is All Souls Day, the final day in Hallowtide, which is made up of All Hallows Eve (Halloween), All Saints Day (yesterday), and All Souls Day. This is the date when the Church remembers those souls who have gone ahead of us yet might not be saints in heaven yet.
I have read in a few places where some believe the Catholic Church to be full of condemnation and judgment. On the contrary, Catholics believe that judgment of souls belongs to God alone. We do not definitively state a person’s soul at the time of death to be in heaven or hell—because we are not God. Instead, we trust in God’s mercy and beg prayers for that person’s soul… the exception being those who have been formally declared as Saints by the Church.
All Saints Day: the day we look to the example of those many Saints who have won the race and enjoy perfection in heaven with God. All Souls Day: the day we pray that all who have died may enjoy the beatific vision in heaven.
And the beauty of God existing outside of time and space makes possible this continuity, so we can still pray for those long dead and befriend those Saints who lived well outside our earthly time. And we do so every year with the gift of the liturgical calendar, bringing to mind these days set aside for us to remember our deaths (memento mori) as well as pray for loved ones who have gone ahead of us.
Much has been written elsewhere about Purgatory and about the true, Christian roots of Halloween (even its name means “All Hallows (Saints, those who are hallowed or holy) Evening,” the eve before All Saints Day). These words from Jimmy Akin are a good starting point on the latter, complete with more links to take you deeper.
My family hosts an All Saints Day party each year. When Halloween falls on a weekend, we include trick-or-treating for those who wish to stay later and go out in our neighborhood. A few years ago, my oldest kids and their friends went “souling,” carrying candles and offering prayers for the deceased relatives of those who answered their knocks. Now, we do live in the Baptist Belt, so they got some mixed reactions for sure. How to properly explain these rich traditions deeply rooted in our Christian faith in a culture where they have become so misunderstood and distorted?
I can’t begin to sort that out myself and explain it eloquently enough. All I know is that these dates and themes have sought me out in my writing, and I can only hope God has placed them there in order that they might touch others in ways a nonfiction essay or explanation cannot.
And so I end this quick entry with two things: a link to win a signed copy (drawing on November 4th!) of my third Chalice Series novel, The Fire of Your Love, and an excerpt from my current work-in-progress series, Fallen Angel/Risen Angel. Remember, we are reading book three this month for my online book club!
This scene takes place in a cemetery. Rattler is working off a debt by digging graves there part-time and has developed a reverence for the dead, and it is the day before his 16th birthday. Mrs. Gilson is a woman in her 80s whose husband Rattler helped to bury in the spring, and through her visits to his grave, these two have struck up a friendship with kind of grandmother/grandson vibe:
“If you come to the cemetery on Halloween and the two days following and say this prayer for all the deceased—”
“Whoa, wait a minute.” Rattler chuckled. “You celebrate that gory holiday?”
“Holy day,” corrected Mrs. Gilson. “Halloween is All Hallows Eve, the evening before the two special days set aside for those who have gone ahead of us in death. Your prayers in a cemetery can be especially powerful on those three days, which together form a picture of the proper view of the afterlife.”
Rattler grinned at her. “Never thought I’d have a proper lady like you encouragin’ a punk like me to hang out in a cemetery on Halloween.”
“You’re not a punk, dear.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “It’s been such a pleasure talking to you today.”
Without a doubt, Rattler believed her. How could he not, with those clear eyes looking at him, really at him, and not his mohawk and his eyebrow piercing and his stubbly chin? Like she saw something totally different than what he was, but the true him at the same time. Maybe that was why he didn’t think her wacky beliefs made her totally crazy—because they were about death. Death wrapped up in life.
Thanks for reading, and a blessed All Souls Day to you,
Erin
