31 October -- Halloween

"The Bodies, The Zombies!" -- Mal Blum

Even the youngest Trick-or-Treater knows the Celtic origins of Halloween, the ancient and mysterious druids hunting down their hapless victims by the light of a new moon. No, wait. Let’s start again. Every 31 October, joyously delirious school children dressed as witches, superheroes, and astronauts sit in a circle on the classroom floor as the teacher tells them how early Christians co-opted the Roman festival of the Pomonal honoring Pomona, a minor goddess devoted to the welfare of fruit trees. Well, maybe … or maybe not. Actually, Halloween’s roots are entangled with those of the trees populating dark forests of the North European Plains in which primitive Germanic tribes huddled about fires while clutching relics ensured to avert the fatal glance of passing elves, dwarves, and kobolds. Yes, that might be it. But it might not too. As with so many cultural stepstones, the primeval ancestors of this popular holiday are lost to the ages. Any or all or none of these may have contributed to the festive holiday equally beloved by children and adults alike.

Even if the exact origin of Halloween remains murky, we do know its current incarnation began to take shape in the early Roman Catholic Church. The Church has always been attached to its martyrs and has never acknowledged death as cause to release its grasp on them. As centers of worship sprang up across the Roman world, days were set aside to commemorate those men and women whose devotion to the faith resulted in their deaths. Soon, congregations were made to realize that the number of martyrs, some real,some imagined, far exceeded the days and time needed to popularly venerate each. So Christian communities across the ancient world began to set aside days on which all martyrs were honored. Over time, this day came to represent all saints, not merely the martyrs.

Christianity did not evolve in a vacuum. The mediums in which it grew contained rich pagan and, in many cases, Jewish traditions. Christian culture borrowed heavily from these antecedents. As the populations of Hibernia, Italia, Germania, and elsewhere embraced Christianity, so too were their customs converted. Christianity did not create itself from nothing. Early Christians frequently reshaped the festivals, rituals, and heroes with which they were already familiar into a new theological mode.

Over the course of centuries, the various days set aside by various communities to remember church martyrs merged into what we now think of as the Allhallowtide Triduum. It seems likely that sometime in the early Eighth Century, Gregorius III selected 1 November as All Saints' Day. Eventually, over the course of time, the entire Church would alter its liturgical calendar accordingly. The final day of Allhallowtide, All Souls’ Day, is devoted to the faithful departed, both great and small, but it is the first day of the triduum with which we are concerned here. Today we think of All Saints’ Eve -- or Halloween, a diminutive of All Hallows’ Eve -- as a time for apple-bobbing, trick-or treating, and carving pumpkins. But in the past, it was every bit as solemn an occasion as are the two following day. On this day, many believed, the dead walked the earth awaiting transport to the afterlife on the morrow, with one final opportunity to exact vengeance upon those still quick.

Now the walking dead exist only in the movies and costumes but we are nonetheless enthusiastic about their presences as this charming song will demonstrate. I confess that I selected this song mainly because Mal Blum is so wonderful, but I think it fits.

“The Bodies, the Zombies!”

I heard your heart's about the size of your fist

But that's not true, it's just a myth

It's your brain that's small

It's your heart that's big

And I saw it

In an exhibit, baby

In the promised land

Where your big blue eyes

And your artist’s hands

Were with your small intestines

And your crooked grin

On the table

Oh me, oh my!

Never ever thought that I

Would see the day you'd sacrifice

The things that made you feel alive

Now you are my zombie bride-

With zombie hair and zombie eyes

And zombie hips and zombie lips

That I can't bring myself to kiss

I hate this, don't you move to New York

You'll jump off of the bridge again

And I will never see you

Oh me, oh my

You're not much different

When alive

You never compromised enough

No, you couldn't empathize

And now that you're so dead and all

It all just feels so literal

So you can really have my brain

You can really have my heart: it's yours

If you want it

Yours,

If you want it

I hate this, don't you move to New York

You'll jump off of the bridge again

And I will never see you

I take it that we're moving too slowly

Got a little bit lucky last night

You are a beautiful

Inhuman being

I follow your un-life

From behind my screen

And I try to believe it

But I can't deny

Even the dead don't sleep alone

(c’mon) show me the tissue of your bones

And your hands and your feet

And the people that you meet

And the places that you eat

And how you act in front of me

And the way you wear your hair

I swear, I think I understand

The things that make me who I am

And there's no master plan

I'd know

Oh me, oh my!

Now I'm on the other side of the world

There are so many zombie boys and girls with empty chests and hollow eyes

No, I can't help what I like you look my way

I start to sigh

Who cares if you are dead inside?

I don't.

Doesn't mean that you can't love

(you say) I hate this, don't you move to New York

You'll jump off of that bridge again

With all your brand new undead friends and you won't talk to me

But you'll write me into songs and maybe I don't want you here

But I don't want you gone!

Besides I'm trying (and I'm trying and I'm trying and I'm trying and I'm trying and I'm trying)

I've been trying (I've been trying I've been trying I've been trying I've been trying I've been trying I've been trying) to live