Trick or Treat!

Halloween night turned out to be a perfect evening for trick or treaters. Up and down our street boys and girls, sometimes accompanied by parents, made their way door to door, eager for tasty treats. There may have been a few midget-sized skeletons, goblins, and witches wandering about the neighborhood, but there was nothing sinister about this fun-filled night.

Today’s version of the night before All Saint’s Day (Nov. 1) is a far cry from medieval times when superstitious beliefs conjured up images of evil spirits and the unbaptized dead lurking through streets, causing dread among the living. It was believed then that the only way to ward off these nefarious spirits was to bribe them with treats. If one failed to provide gifts for these ghoulish creatures, then there would be retributions, hence the term “trick or treat.”

Since the Dark Ages we’ve become aware that evil doesn’t always appear in the guise of something frightening—how much easier it would be if evil did appear ugly and monstrous—but usually enters our lives in the form of that which is beautiful and desirable. Even then, the only way evil can have any power over us is if we choose to give in to the dark side. Thus, in the so-called modern world (I think someday people will look back on our present day as another Dark Age), Halloween is simply a time for little guys and gals to dress up in costumes and enjoy a night when eating sugary treats has the qualified endorsement of mom and dad.

Several of our adult neighbors wanted to enjoy the festivities, too, and put together a block party. A few even dressed up in Halloween costumes! Food and drink were plentiful as moms and dads visited with one another and handed out treats to the younger costumed kids who stopped to gawk at the older costumed kids. For most of these parents their children had outgrown the door-to-door solicitation for candy, and now they could relax and appreciate the night free from responsibilities and eat a little naughty, too.

My wife and I decided to stay home, though, and hand out candy to the neighborhood kids who came by. While we see new children every year, many of the trick or treaters knew us and took off their masks to let us see their faces. We’ve lived in the same house for so long that we can remember when some of today’s parents were children. Now they are the parents bringing their own kids by our house. How quickly one generation graduates to the next!

For the most part my wife and I hand out candy together, but from time-to-time my wife had to check on baking cookies and left me alone to treat the little ones. Still, she insists on keeping a close eye on me to make sure I dole out the treats in the right amounts, not too much and not too little.

One older boy, maybe around ten or eleven, came to the door with a scary mask and shouted, “Trick or Treat!” I reached in our candy container and pulled out several pieces, but before I dropped them in his sack I said, “Where is your mask?”

His eyes stared at me for a moment through his frightening disguise and then one of his hands slowly reached up to his face, as if he were checking to make sure his mask was still there. Once confident it was, he giggled, took the candy and ran off to the next house.

A father brought his little boy to the door a few minutes later, maybe three or four-years-old, and then stood back to let his son trick or treat me. But the words just wouldn’t come out of his mouth. After a second or two, he blurted, “Give me candy! Give me candy!” Of course I complied, but the father was dead-set on his son saying the right words, “trick or treat.” I stood before the little guy as he tried to get the words out. Maybe he did, but if he did, they were barely audible. As father and son left the porch, I could hear the dad instructing his little goblin, “Now remember, you’re supposed to say trick or treat”

It wasn’t long before a girl about the same age as the give-me-candy boy rang the doorbell, or rather her mom did. When I opened the door, she stood before me, barely three feet tall, in a beautiful princess costume. I guessed she might be Princess Leia, so I bent over and put some candy in her pumpkin basket and said, “And who might you be?”

She slowly drawled, “I’m a princess, but I wanted to be a witch!” Hmm, I thought to myself. I think this little princess has just stumbled on why the world is so deeply troubled. Her mom, a bit embarrassed, looked at me and said, “I hope she outgrows that.” I just smiled and gave the theologically precocious child a few more pieces of candy.

Halloween night reminds me that there is much love and goodness in the world, even if we can’t always see it. The innocence of children speaks to the preciousness of human life. Hearing excited voices and seeing the glistening eyes behind masks and make-up covered faces provide a break from the savage world, if only for an evening.

With both the war in Ukraine and Israel wreaking havoc on people’s lives, destroying towns and slaughtering people, it makes me feel a little more human handing out candy to youngsters. I watch the nightly news and hear of another mass shooting and find myself becoming calloused to the escalating violence in our country. I pray for unity among politicians, hoping they can reach palatable compromises on complicated and controversial issues, but what I see is discord at levels not seen since the Civil War. I read of billionaires who rake in incomprehensible amounts of money, yet pay just a little more that 8% in taxes, and my cynicism grows toward our economic system.

When I finally turned off our porch light, there were still a few pieces of candy left in our large container. I took a bite-sized snickers and unwrapped it and popped it into my mouth. I chewed the sugary confection, thinking of the boys and girls who visited our house. Young, innocent, so full of wonder and excitement. It was a wonderful way to spend an evening—a chance to give for the sheer joy of it. A chance to laugh with children, moms and dads. A chance to think about things other than the darkness that blankets so much of our world.

After I watched the World Series, I climbed into bed. My mind wandered back to the princess. I could feel the beginning of a smile forming across my face as I thought about what she said, “I’m a princess, but I wanted to be a witch.”

Before sleep put to rest my restless mind, one last thought lingered: for way too many of us, the princess’ wish has been fulfilled.