Hallows' Evening Hebrews
I thoroughly dislike Halloween. In fact, if I never attended another Halloween party for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t shed a single tear. I loathe dressing up and wearing a mask is nothing short of deliberate suffocation. Also, for the record, candy corn is a demon-esque “food product” that should be removed from existence entirely. On the Jewish clergy side of things, we all struggle with what to do with this secular holiday: Is it okay to dress up? Can we participate in this pagan Celtic festival? Will there be Religious school that day? (please don't ask a nine-year-old to choose Hebrew over candy) Ultimately, the whole thing is an absolute nightmare. On Elm Street.
However! With all that said, I am one-hundred thousand percent on board with the celebration of Halloween. Not because of anything to do with frightening people with ghoulish antics. In fact, Halloween embodies the opposite of horror. It’s the one day of the year where fear and intimidation are removed from the social equation of every-day life in America. When “driving while black” or “walking while black” in the wrong neighborhood doesn’t result in brutality.
On Halloween, neighborhood borders seem to dissolve in the hustle and bustle of trick-or-treating. Folks from marginalized neighborhoods are welcomed into affluent spaces they typically wouldn’t be. It’s an unusual event considering that America is characterized by institutionalized racial exclusion and self-imposed socioeconomic segregation. This type of boundary-crossing isn’t typically tolerated on Thanksgiving or Hanukkah. But on Halloween, however, “Anyone can go out and enjoy themselves...It is a time for people to bond and be carefree.” [1]
Because Halloween teaches children NOT to be scared — of the Other, that is. The threat of the Other is removed by the chaos of candy–collecting. We offer society the "go-ahead" to freely interact with people outside of their everyday environments. As Steve Almond writes in his book Candyfreak, “There’s something incredibly liberating about a holiday that encourages children to take candy from strangers.” [2] So why is this night different front all other nights? Because complete strangers open their doors to other strangers. On any other day, you can be murdered for knocking on a stranger’s door.
Two black teenagers, Omarian Banks, 19, and Brennan Walker, 14, were both fatally shot for knocking on an unknown door. On Halloween, instead of calling the police for “suspicious behavior,” people greet you with bags of treats! Am I the only one who finds this absolute bizarre?! If the date was October 31st, I’m unsure if George Zimmerman would have attempted to “stand his ground” against Trayvon Martin — who was walking home with a bag of Skittles. Presumably, Trayvon would be just a kid. With candy. Dressed in all black. Walking around the neighborhood. So, if we’re talking Jewish values, Halloween is by far the most fabulous Jewish celebration there is. Because breaking barriers and crossing social boundaries is what we’re all about...
In parshat Lech Lecha, we encounter the beginning of Abraham’s journey. I say journey because the origins of Judaism lends itself to this idea that traveling outside your comfort zone is good for you. Judaism begins with a Middle East neighborhood adventure:
“The LORD said to Abram, ‘Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you.’”
So what does Abraham do? Leaves home and ventures into unknown territory. In fact, Abraham moves a lot. In parshat Lech Lecha alone, Abraham goes to eight locations. Eight! [3] “Our sages explain that Abraham was called an Ivri (אַבְרָם הָעִבְרִי) (14:3) from the word (עֵבֶר), the other side. Literally this means that he came to Canaan from the other side of the Euphrates, but the Sages interpret the title in a deeper sense, too. Abraham and Sarah were given the challenge of moving to the other side.” [4]
This word (עבר) meaning “to pass over, though, pass on, or march through” [5] is a word that not only defines Jewish identity, but also our outlook. To be an Ivri, a Hebrew, is to be someone who purposely crosses between frontiers. Not necessarily metaphysical or spiritual ones, but tangible “lines in the sand.” We’re a people who purposefully transcend geographical boundaries. The ones that keep people apart. We are people who visit different villages, societies, and districts. A people who disrupt the system of enclosures that intentionally silos marginalized communities. But here’s the hook. Someone has to be the first to cross over. And someone else has to be on the receiving end.
So, if you’re like me, and would rather spend Halloween inside the house with the lights off – I don’t blame you. But the spirit of Halloween encourages us to open our doors to those who have crossed over into a new territory - a new neighborhood. A different one then maybe they’re used to. This week, I'm reminded that trick-or-treating isn't just obtaining food. It's about what food does. Which is bring us together. Kit-Kat’s and bags of Skittles unify us. And running about procuring snacks disrupts the systems that keep us confined. I say, give into Halloween. And remember to slowly siphon candy from your kids.
[1] “Halloween: Social Impact” by Nicholas Perugini
[2] “Candyfreak: A Journey through the Chocolate Underbelly of America” by Steve Almond, p.30
[3] Haran (12:1), Shechem (12:6), Bethel (12:8), Egypt [Negeb] (12:9), Hebron (13:18), Dan (14:14), Hobah (14:15), and the Valley of Shaveh (14:17)
[3] Stone Edition Chumash, p. 55
[4] The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English lexicon, 5674