Jewish Halloween?
Parashat Vayera 5771
This week, Andrea Jacobs, a reporter from the Intermountain Jewish News, interviewed me for a story she’s writing. She’s talking to rabbis from different movements to get our take on whether Jews should celebrate Halloween. I gave her my official rabbinic line: Halloween clearly has roots in paganism. It is a holiday that glorifies death and the occult. In short, Halloween is decidedly not Jewish. As a Conservative rabbi, I strongly believe we need to take our tradition seriously and look to it for guidance; so, I don’t encourage Jews to celebrate Halloween. But, as a Conservative Rabbi, I also believe we should take the culture in which we live seriously and not separate ourselves from our neighbors; so, I also would not look down on parents who let their kids trick-or-treat. After all, most people don’t consider the origins of the holiday. It’s just fun and American.
I thought perhaps she would leave it at that, but I was a little surprised when she made the interview personal, asking me whether I used to trick-or-treat when I was a child. I did, in fact, celebrate Halloween as a kid. I grew up in a pretty traditionally-oriented Jewish family but in a part of southern California with very few Jews. So I did what all the neighborhood kids did: I wore costumes for Halloween and went door-to-door trolling for candy. When I was young, the streets were full of kids on Halloween (it was like a block party) and most of the people in the neighborhood gave out candy. It was fun and friendly… people decorated the front of their houses. Grown-ups would open their doors wide and always complemented us on our costumes. I actually have fond memories of Halloween.
But, Andrea didn’t give up. She asked, “rabbi, do you let your own children trick-or-treat?” While my kids are young and it hasn’t yet become a big issue, I don’t have a problem telling my kids, “look, we’re Jewish and this is not our holiday. We have a lot of fun Holidays too, and we even have a holiday for dressing up in silly costumes. Halloween is simply not Jewish and we don’t celebrate it.” But, I think a lot of parents are afraid to say that… yet it isn’t really that hard for kids to understand. My 5 year-old understand that we live differently from our neighbors, we eat differently, we mark time differently. At the same time, I think it is important we also say to our children, “there’s nothing wrong with people who are different from us, nor are their holidays bad… they’re just not Jewish.”
Andrea, being a diligent reporter, didn’t let up, however. She said, “what will you do when other kids knock on your door?” And that really made me think; because that’s really where the rubber hits the road. It’s at the door of our home that the confrontation between us as Jews and the world around us happens. And this question has had me thinking about how perhaps Halloween doesn’t have to be a problem for Jews.
The world has changed quite a lot since the days when I would happily go door-to-door in my neighborhood without adult supervision, gobbling up my favorite treats between houses. A lot has changed from the days when people used to swing their doors open and greet us with a smile. The change started in the 80s with a series of candy tampering scares. There were rumors about people poisoning Halloween treats or putting pins and razor blades in the candy. The fact is, there have over the years been a handful of isolated cases of tampering. But, according to Joel Best, a sociologist who studies how rumors and trends work, nearly all of the accounts of Halloween tampering turned out to be urban legend or deliberate hoaxes. But, he points out, these sorts of rumors go back to the late 60s. But it was only in the 80s when we all started getting hysterical about it. In the 80s we were told to fear a lot of stuff (but that’s for another sermon).
Anyhow, now more than ever we seem to live in a perpetual state of fear. In America today, fear of violence and fear of other people is a way of life. The evening news is basically a horror-show and even the TV programs that are supposed to be entertaining are about scary crimes. We live behind heavy walls and gates, afraid of strangers, never opening the door for anyone, terrified to let our children out of our sights for even a second. And in the last decade, Americans have learned a new kind of fear – the fear of violent terrorists. And while that fear is legitimate, we’re seeing some people project that fear onto anyone who reminds them of a terrorist (but I’ve given that sermon). The last few decades have also seen profound changes to our society: changes in traditional power structures, changes in gender roles, changes in sexual norms, changes in the ethnic make-up of our country, changes in our economy. And some people are reacting with hysterical fear and loathing to those changes.
As a citizen, I am worried. There are certainly real dangers out there; but, like the candy tampering hoaxes of the 80s, most of our fear is a product of our perception and willingness to believe the worst about other people.
As a rabbi, I am desperately concerned for the human soul that is debilitated by fear. I’m worried that we’re losing an aspect of our humanity and losing sight of essential Jewish values – namely, the welcoming of strangers and compassion for others.
One of the themes in this morning’s Torah portion is Hachnasat Orchim – which means welcoming guests. Parashat Va-yera opens with Abraham sitting at the opening of his tent when three mysterious strangers approach him. He doesn’t run inside in fear and lock tent flap; instead, he rushes to greet them and offer them hospitality. This incident occurred right after he had circumcised himself; but he sets aside his own discomfort to wait on his guests. According to our sages, Abraham and Sarah were the paragons of hospitality. It is said in midrash that their tent had an opening on every side in order to be able to greet people from no matter from which direction they came; and, it is for that reason they attracted so many converts.
If we were to put ourselves in Abraham’s situation, would we have been so hospitable? It could not have been easy for Abraham. He was in a vulnerable state, he himself was a nomad in a foreign land, and he had some wealth to protect. Being hospitable to strangers is difficult. After all, strangers are… strange. You don’t know who they are, what they want, where they come from. They may look differently, act differently, believe differently, or speak differently. But, I am really concerned that despite all our happy-talk about multiculturalism, we actually have very little tolerance for strangers. And, that our fear of one another is actually more threatening to us as a society than the things we perceive to be dangerous.
Yesterday morning I had the occasion to attend a charity breakfast for an organization called Seeking Common Ground. I really didn’t know anything about the group but I went at the invitation of one of our congregants, whom I knew to be a big supporter of the organization. I have to admit that I was hesitant at first and I that I was surprised by what I encountered. For one thing, I saw a lot of people I know (including many congregants) among the very diverse crowd. We heard some moving testimonials about the organization’s work. Seeking common ground brings together young Israelis and Arabs; Jews and Muslims and Christians to dialogue with one another and work together on projects. The power of these encounters is that the young people who participate in their programs learn to see one another, to listen, to find their common values and ideals, and to share their vision of a better future. But I have to say, that what surprised me most about my experience yesterday is the very fact that I was surprised. What I mean is that this sort of approach – encounters between strangers – feels so outside the mainstream right now. In our fear-driven culture, building bridges, opening ourselves up to perhaps uncomfortable interactions with strangers, seems somehow radical, counter-cultural. And that shocks my conscience and makes me sad. It shouldn’t be that way. It shouldn’t be something radical. After all, it is so intuitive. When people come to know one another, it’s hard for them to hate each other. But it feels to me that, as a society, we’ve lost sight of that simple truth. We don’t talk to people with whom we disagree. We get information from sources that match our ideologies. We wall ourselves off from people who are different. And there are a lot of people out there right now peddling fear and hatred for profit and political gain. It’s even happening among our children, evidenced by an epidemic of bullying – much of it motivated by hatred of difference.
So this year I want to embrace Halloween as a model for the kind of civil engagement we desperately need. On what other night of the year do Americans open their doors to strangers and extend generosity to them? That doesn’t mean I’m going to take my children trick-or-treating. I still think it is ok for us to say, “we are different and we don’t do that”… but I also think this is a time for us to open the doors to other people and fearlessly show some hospitality and friendliness. So, I’m going to buy a bag of candy and encourage my kids to hand it out to the trick-or-treaters. I think it is a wonderful metaphor for a realistic multiculturalism which says, “I can be different and cherish my values while being open to encountering others without condemning the ways in which we are different. I can be who I am and honor who you are and how you live.” It isn’t naïve relativism. It isn’t radical. It’s just good-old-fashioned hospitality from our forefather Abraham.
Shabbat Shalom… and to our neighbors: “Happy Halloween.”
Dear Rabbi Gruenwald,
I just want you to know I really was touched by what you wrote about Halloween and people. We all need to be taught to be proud of who we are, yet accept and not judge others for who they are and what their customes are. I could relate to so much of what you said. Thank you! Carol