Should We Ghost Halloween?
I wonder what you make of Halloween? We sat down recently with our kids to discuss whether we would be joining in the trick-or-treating. What’s good? What’s bad? How should we think about it as Christians? What do you do in your house? I’m honestly in two minds because I think, at best it’s a fun-ish secular holiday where kids get candy, but evil and death are celebrated and made light of; at worst, it’s a genuine celebration of evil and death. On the other hand, Halloween is a wonderful opportunity for great conversations. As Christians, we know the real reality of evil and death—its awfulness and depravity. And we know the victory we have in Jesus. Halloween is a chance, perhaps, to speak about evil and its reality alongside the hope we have of victory over evil. Alongside Easter, Halloween is one of those marvellous times when we get to remember that Jesus has disarmed the powers and authorities, made a public spectacle of them and triumphed over them by the cross. His victory is total; their defeat is absolute.
Alongside Easter, Halloween is one of those marvellous times when we get to remember that Jesus has disarmed the powers and authorities by the cross.
Tolkien, Halloween and a Joyful Eucatastrophe
Oddly for me, whenever I consider Halloween, my mind turns to the Lord of the Rings. For me, no one quite stokes the imagination with such a vivid depiction of not only the victory of good over evil but its utter triumph and joy.
Tolkien is trending. With the release of Amazon’s epic Rings of Power, the internet is awash with advertising, promotions and die-hard fans pulling their hair out at this or that failure of faithfulness to the text or the spirit of Tolkien’s work. One of the things Tolkien is most famous for is his coining of the term ‘eucatastrophe’, and his use of the idea in his writings. A eucatastrophe is a “good catastrophe”. It is the joy of a happy ending erupting suddenly out of the darkest scene.
Think of the Eagles arriving at the Battle of the Five Armies in the Hobbit, or Gandalf appearing in the dawn at Helm’s Deep when the defenders had given up hope. Think of any good fairy tale—it’s the moment when all hope is lost, and suddenly there is a “joyous turn.” In the Lord of the Rings the most obvious, perhaps, is Gollum’s fateful slip on the precipice of Mount Doom. Had that not happened, then Sauron would have triumphed and the free peoples of Middle Earth would have perished or been enslaved.
But my favourite eucatastrophe in the Lord of the Rings comes earlier and is perhaps less well known. As The Return of the King begins, a strange tale unfolds. The world is in peril. Sauron, the dark lord, is preparing his final stroke, his long-planned war to destroy or enslave the free peoples of Middle Earth. Frodo is in Ithilien, preparing for his final trek to the mountain with the ring; Gandalf has sped on horseback to Minas Tirith, the last great stronghold of humanity against the dark lord. But Aragorn, the heir to the throne of Gondor and the only one Sauron truly fears, is still in obscurity hundreds of miles north. The plan is for him to ride with the Rohirrim to Gondor’s aid, but he knows the battle is too soon, that the forces arranged against Minas Tirith are too great and that the Rohirrim will only arrive to find orcs picking over the remnants of Minas Tirith.
Eowyn, like Peter in the gospels, rebukes Aragorn: a great man like him ought not to throw his life away.
And so he resolves that there is only one way to save his people. Indeed one way to save the world: he must fulfil the ancient prophecies … and tread the paths of the dead. And so he sets his face toward Dunharrow and the dark paths there. Eomer and Theoden are dismayed. Eowyn, like Peter in the gospels, rebukes Aragorn: a great man like him ought not to throw his life away.
But Aragorn knows that this is the only way he can save his people. More, he knows that as the rightful heir of Isildur, he can tread those dreaded paths. That he can face the dead without fear—indeed, that the dead must not only suffer him to pass but the dead must and will listen to his voice. And so he enters the paths of the dead.
Meanwhile, in Minas Tirith the battle turns against Gondor. Theoden is killed by the Witch King, the forces of good are wavering. Eomer and all the defenders of the city have given up hope. As far as they can see, the king is dead. They see the forces arrayed against them, they know the end is only a matter of time, and so they resign themselves at least to fight and make a death worthy of song.
But at that moment, Eomer looks up… “and then wonder took him, and a great joy; and he cast his sword up in the sunlight and sang as he caught it.” For the king had come! Aragorn arrives, unfurling his banner to the dismay of his enemies and the joy of his people.
Thus came Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elessar, Isildur’s heir, out of the Paths of the Dead, borne upon a wind from the Sea to the kingdom of Gondor; and the mirth of the Rohirrim was a torrent of laughter and a flashing of swords, and the joy and wonder of the City was a music of trumpets and a ringing of bells. But the hosts of Mordor were seized with bewilderment, and a great wizardry it seemed to them that their own ships should be filled with their foes; and a black dread fell on them, knowing that the tides of fate had turned against them and their doom was at hand.[1]
In the midst of the enemy’s triumph. The king emerges from the paths of the dead to defeat his enemies and rescue his people.
Isn’t that wonderful? In the midst of the enemy’s triumph. At the moment that seemed darkest. The king emerges from the paths of the dead to defeat his enemies and rescue his people. This is how God acts! In the midst of great calamity and evil, he works good. Right when things are darkest, God saves his people and judges his enemies. We follow a king who did not merely walk the paths of the dead but literally died on a cross. Brutally, shamefully, painfully. He faced death. He was cut off from his Father. He took the sting of death. But in that act, he disarmed the powers and authorities of evil. He made a public spectacle of them. And he triumphed over them by the cross.
This Halloween, remember: that evil is real. We actually believe in Satan and demons and hell. But we follow a king who death could not keep hold of—a king who lives; who has broken the power of evil and one day will return to make all things new.
[1] Return of the King, 829.
