a wee Celtic trifecta: All Hallows Eve, All Saints and All Souls Days

On All Hallows Eve - the ancient Samhain or Sauin on the Isle of Man - is unfolding well in our wee Berkshire hills. We walked in the late autumn sun after being greeted by frost on the pumpkins. I edited my reflections and practiced Carrie Newcomer's "All Saints Day" for tomorrow, Face-Timed with the little ones in their cat-wing costumes (and mama attired as Ursula Le Guin no less!), the fairy lights are dressing the bodhran and Celtic harp in the front room. And now my shepherd's pie is nearing readiness for the oven. Di is preparing soul cakes and Altan is blasting on the sound system. 

                Thig Oidhche Shamhna thig agus cuir fàilte oirnn

                      (Come, Halloween, come and greet us!) 

We had our first wee trick-or-treater just a moment ago. Given the lack of side walks in our neighborhood and the relatively old inhabitants, it is rare for little ones to join us. And given the pandemic I was certain no one would come round. But a true little princess and her mom, both appropriately social distances as good citizens of the Commonwealth, and well-masked, too received our mandarin oranges with grace and a big THANK YOU!

Earlier today I read a post by one of the new monastics re: Halloween and All Hallows Eve. It wasn't particularly deep and the author's history could use some tweaking, but his point was well-made: this ancient ritual gives us all a chance to playfully consider our own deaths, honor the deaths of those who have gone before us, and learn a measure of depth from measuring whatever time remains. As expected, however, a somewhat self-righteous evangelical started carping about the dark, evil and malicious pagan roots of this trifecta. It brought to mind a novel by one of Israel's most popular writers about an ultra conservative Talmudist who, as a widower, falls in love with a young woman convert to the faith. The novel highlights all the cultural bigotry and prejudice alive in Boro Park, Brooklyn despite the tradition's commitment to radical hospitality. As the faithful wrestled with this love, one wise old woman taught the community that the father of the tribe, Abram, came from pagan parents. Same, too for Moishe's in-laws, mother, and wife. So often we know the words of part of our various traditions but not its soul. With beheadings in France, religious white supremacists in the US, violent Buddhist nationalists in India it is clear that no one religious group holds a monopoly on cruelty, stupidity, or vicious violence towards outsiders.

A wiser and more historically appropriate approach to our various spiritual pre-histories is gratitude and critique/correction when needed. St. Paul noted in the opening of his letter to the small church in Rome: "What can be known about God is plain, because God has shown it to us. Ever since the creation of the world God's eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things God has made." My Celtic relatives who came to embrace the way of Jesus used to say that "creation is God's first word" and that everything God ever wanted us to know has been revealed in nature." So, while hardly a Druid, I bask in my heritage tonight and give thanks to the way my kin deepened it as the centuries have passed. There will be time for making amends and doing deep justice, too but tonight is the feast!