Joseph J. Bucci , Bio and Archives--October 30, 2026
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The doorbell rings. On the porch stand a three-foot ghost, a pint-sized pirate, and a princess gripping a pillowcase. They shout the magic words, I drop in the candy, and they race off into the dark. It’s a lovely scene, and I enjoy it every year. But not one of them knows what they are celebrating. Neither do most of their parents.
The word Halloween is a contraction. It comes from All Hallows’ Eve, and “hallow” means holy (Merriam-Webster, 2026). The night we treat as a costume party was named for the evening before a feast honoring the saints of God. Underneath the plastic fangs and behind the masks sits a memorial. Somewhere along the way, the porch light stayed on but the real story went dark.
God has always known how easily His people forget. So He built remembering into their lives. “Remember the days of old; consider the years of many generations; ask your father, and he will show you, your elders, and they will tell you” (Deut. 32:7, English Standard Version). When Israel crossed the Jordan, God had them stack up twelve stones so that “when your children ask in time to come, ‘What do those stones mean to you?’” they would have a story to tell (Josh. 4:6). The psalmist vowed not to hide God’s deeds from the children but to “tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the LORD” (Ps. 78:4).
The New Testament carries the same charge: “Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God. Consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith” (Heb. 13:7). Faith is handed down, and remembering is how.
The early church took that seriously. Christians first marked the anniversary of each martyr’s death and called it the dies natalis, Latin for “birthday”: the day the saint was born into eternal life, and the day they heard the Master say, “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matt. 25:21; Babendreier, 2016). Then the persecutions multiplied. Under Diocletian, the number of martyrs became so great that a separate day could not be assigned to each (Flader, 2009). So the church at the time set aside a common day to recognize and celebrate all of these faithful heroes (Flader, 2009). A hymn by Ephraem refers to a commemoration of all martyrs on May 13, and a sermon of John Chrysostom shows that Antioch honored its martyrs on the Sunday after Pentecost (Biblical Training, 2026). Both dates fall in spring.
The centralized Roman church followed this pattern. On May 13, 609 or 610, Pope Boniface IV received the Roman Pantheon, a former pagan temple, from the Emperor Phocas, and he dedicated it as a church honoring Mary and the martyrs (Biblical Training, 2026).
Then came the move to autumn. The first evidence for November 1, and for widening the feast to include all saints, comes from Gregory III (731–741), who dedicated a chapel in St. Peter’s on that date. By 800 Alcuin was keeping the feast on November 1, and in 837 Gregory IV ordered its general observance (Britannica, 2026). Scholars admit nobody knows exactly why November was chosen (Biblical Training, 2026). The Eastern churches never moved the date, and they still keep this observance on the first Sunday after Pentecost (Britannica, 2026).
As the centuries passed, folk customs gathered around the days. Poor people went door to door at Hallowmas, receiving food in return for prayers for the dead (New World Encyclopedia, 2026). A secular version, guising, is first recorded in Scotland in the 19th century (Soniak, 2024). Historians also link the holiday’s unique customs to the festival of Samhain (Rogers, 2002). That festival, at the turn from autumn to winter, was the time when the Celts believed the boundaries between the worlds of the living and the dead blurred (Britannica, 2026). Costumes and masks were also worn during the festivals in order to placate the evil spirits (New World Encyclopedia, 2026).
America came late to all of this. The Puritans of New England strongly opposed the holiday, and it arrived in earnest only with Irish and Scottish immigration in the 19th century (New World Encyclopedia, 2026). The earliest known printed use of “trick or treat” is from a 1927 Alberta newspaper (Mark, 2025). After a wartime pause, the practice surged in the 1950s (Soniak, 2024). By then the connection to the saints had faded, and the scary side of the holiday has since become a commercial industry of its own.
Most Protestants lost the habit of remembering along the way. But we weren’t meant to.
Some of us may hesitate to remember the saints of old because we aren’t Roman Catholic, and we don’t pray to the saints. Neither did the Reformers. Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses on the eve of All Saints’ Day, at a church where those attending the celebration of the saints would see them (Warstler, 2006). The Lutheran reformers kept the day and cherished it. The Augsburg Confession says Scripture does not teach calling on the saints for help, yet the memory of saints should be honored, so that believers can imitate their faith and good works (Melanchthon, 1530/2000b, Art. XXI). The Apology of the Augsburg Confession strongly encourages the remembrance of the saints for three purposes: thanksgiving to God, strengthening of faith, and imitation (Melanchthon, 1531/2000a, Art. XXI).
That is the pattern I want to recover. We do not pray to the saints. We thank God for them, and we learn from them. Hebrews 11 gives us the roll call. Some “were tortured, refusing to accept release.” Others endured “mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment.” They were “of whom the world was not worthy” (Heb. 11:35–38). Then comes the verse that turns the memorial into a mission: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight… and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us” (Heb. 12:1).
We already understand this instinct. Every year we pause to honor those who gave their lives for our country. We sing of heroes “who more than self their country loved, and mercy more than life” (Bates, 1913). If we can do that for a nation, surely we can pause for those who gave everything for “a faith of equal standing with ours” (2 Pet. 1:1). Their Lord promised, “Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life” (Rev. 2:10).
Keep the costumes. Enjoy the candy… after the kids fall asleep. Childhood joy is a gift, and I’m not asking anyone to take it away.
But before the doorbell rings, or just prior to your neighborhood stroll, sit down with your children. Tell them from where the word Halloween came. Tell them about the people who stood firm when it cost them everything. Name one saint from church history, and one from your own family tree who kept the faith. Then ask your child a simple question: “What would it look like for you to stay faithful?”
That conversation is your twelve stones (Josh. 4:6–7). One day your children will ask what it all means, and you will have something real to say.
So when the doorbell rings this year, I’ll hand out the candy and smile at the little ghost on my porch. I’ll also remember the great cloud of witnesses watching from the stands, and I’ll ask God to help me pass the story on.
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