All Hallows Eve: What Does It Really Mean

As an admittedly “basic” sort of person, PSLs and all, there is no way around the simple fact that autumn is my favorite season, and Halloween, my favorite holiday . I cannot deny that the first sign of a fiery leaf, of a brisk morning, or of bone-centric decor, has me absolutely ecstatic without fail. Fall and Halloween, synonymous as they are often considered to be, come a grand slew of objectively delightful traditions: bonfires and cider, candy and costumes, mystery and magic, just to name some highlights. However, regardless of what “sort of person” you might be, there is another avenue of interest that the season of spookiness calls for us all to indulge in, and that is a curiosity for the macabre. Be it with word-of-mouth ghost stories (candlelit, fireside, or otherwise), a classic list of horror flicks, or an uptick in the view count of Buzzfeed Unsolved, celebrators have many ways of cozying up to the season’s scary reputation, per tradition. However, let us not forget why exactly the macabre takes center stage in this this time, especially since its purpose was once far more personal than the Anglospheric observers of Halloween treat it to be. Día de los Muertos has kept alive a tradition of remembrance for the deceased that other cultures have dropped in favor of festivity alone, with the historically more serious “All Hallows’ Eve” mutating into its own more lighthearted successor. We throw around this antique iteration of the name into any context in which an increased perception of intensity, mystique, or ye olde charm are called for, and we do so with an unfortunately limited understanding of what the name really connotes. So, in the interest of taking part in both the season’s tendency for mystery as well as care for that which has passed before us, allow me to share with you the curious origins of my favorite holiday.

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We begin, of course, in a distant past. Not just any past, but the Celtic region as early as the 9th century, and perhaps even earlier. We see four Gaelic festivals that act as the cornerstones of the year, each welcoming the arrival of a season in alignment with the region’s farming/pastoral patterns. Imbolc marks the beginning of Spring on February 1st, Bealtaine rings in the Summer on May 1st, Lughnasa the Autumn on August 1st, and finally, the winter begun with Samhain on November 1st. Samhain (pronounced Sa-win of Sow-in) was a time of feasting, drinking, and community. And fire. Lots and lots of fire.

I’d like to disclaim that all of Samhain’s features that I will describe to you are only snapshots of traditions formed by many centuries; there’s a solid chance that some elements may not have all been popular at the same points in history. However, there are several key themes that make up the roots of Samhain, and many traditional activities that make up its branches (that is to say, the facets of it that reach beyond its time.)

One such tradition is the ritual bonfire. They were gathered around in the hopes that their persistent radiance would imitate that of the fleeting sun in the coming winter season. Many activities involved the use of fuel from every nearby household; lighting every hearth from the communal flame and more were symbolic of a familial community. The flame, its smoke, and its ashes were all used in rituals of cleansing and banishment of dark things. These fires were also the backdrop for divination games, one of which would eventually inspire our modern tradition of bobbing for apples. Although, if we played it right, apples would be hung from strings instead of floating in water, and we would toss the peels of the first apple we managed to bite over our shoulder to reveal the first initials of our future spouses.

Now, we begin to touch on the side of the season that we know best: the Otherworldly. Samhain, between the autumnal equinox and winter solstice, has two slightly different spiritual facets. One is the belief that Samhain aligns with the time of the year at which the border between our world and the spirit-filled Otherworld is most easily crossed, which fostered wariness about the presence of fae spirits and nature deities for Celtic Pagans. The other is that the death of the harvest season was symbolic of death itself, which inspired the living to welcome back the spirits of those they had lost. Offerings of food, drink, and crops were prepared and left out for these Otherworldly visitors, whether it be to gain some favor in the coming winter months, to circumvent supernatural mischief, or simply to hold close the memories of their loved ones. Additionally, one popular method of scaring off unfriendly spirits included carving ghoulish faces into turnips and other root vegetables and illuminating them from within using a candle, leaving them to sit in windows or on doorsteps to ward them away from homes.

So far, this festival doesn’t exactly scream “Halloween” beyond the mentions of ghosts and apples (although those turnips are on thin ice), but one feature I know you’ll recognize was believed to have started in Scotland during the 16th century. Visiting one’s neighbors while disguised as a spirit became a classically mischievous prank to accept offerings in their stead, and often accompanied a rhyming verse, and the custom spread across the region through time until emigrants would eventually bring it to England in the 20th century and onward.

We’ve perused the holiday’s background, but what exactly is its origin story? What event was it that took Samhain and morphed it into Halloween? Well, in tandem with the celebration of Samhain and its three seasonal siblings, a Christian holiday had too been evolving. Once known as All Martyrs' Day and observed on May 13th, this was a day of feasting and honoring religious figures of the past. In the 7th century (609 AD, to be exact), Pope Boniface IV broadened its remembrance to All Saints’ Day, or All Hallow’s Day. With the change in name, the holiday was also moved to November 1st, but its proximity to Samhain at this point is argued to have been coincidental. On the other hand, the geographical separation between Christian observers and Celtic revelers gradually closed as the former spread their influence tothe latter. It is no ancient secret that the Christian church most often denounced the traditions of Pagan groups; after all, “Pagan” was just a word used by Christians of the time to describe relation to any belief that isn't Abrahamic. So, it is quite curious that in 1030 AD, the 11th century, this purely religious holiday was given something of an extension to be celebrated on the 2nd of November: All Souls’ Day.

“What was so special about All Souls’ Day?” you may be asking. At first, its customs might not seem too different from All Hallows’ Day: more feasting, more prayer, and supposedly some sacrifice. It’s the leaving of alms for the dead, specifically souls trapped in the realm between the living and the afterlife that we know as Purgatory, that raises the eyebrows of some historians

All of this could still be dismissed as coincidence, or even mutual influence between the faiths, if it weren’t for the eventual renaming of Samhain to “All Hallows’ Eve.” In the many years following, the name persisted and shifted through a series of casual contractions to our Hallowe’en—leaving the day’s original Pagan roots culturally eclipsed, but not quite erased. No, despite the shift in denominational affiliation, new facets to this holiday weren’t common; the bonfires that were once to appease Pagan deities and ward of malicious spirits were carried over along with costumes of devils and dead saints, and faces carved into vegetables were to represent souls in Purgatory.

With my tale of history concluded, I invite you as readers to ponder what your feelings about this topic might be. If you feel that my representation of events has been unfair or have picked out any inaccuracies, I’d be pleased to hear your perspective if you were to write so to our magazine. However, if you found yourself drawn to my portrayal of the old Pagan ways and intrigued by this notion of Church–led sanitation of non-Abrahamic holidays, then I encourage you to dive deeper into this subject with your own research on Roman Saturnalia, Ostara, and for a fittingly spooky Halloween challenge, Lupercalia. Based only on their original descriptions, can you find which modern holidays they inspired?

On that final note of activity, I thank you kindly for reading. I do hope that my fellow basic sorts of people who might be reading this article will be able to take pride in this season’s rich backstory of mystery and community, and can foster in others an appreciation for the roots of our favorite holiday-- with the same respect for the contributions made beyond their namesakes as we might for the long-lost spirits who roam the day as we know it.