Some sage once brushed all doom and gloom off the table with this remark about the Bible:
"I've read the last page. We win."
Sounds good to me. And yet other Bible-readers scurry to sweep it all back up again. There it is, back on their tables, all ready to be handed out instead of Halloween candy.
With somber disapproving faces, they scold parents who would allow their children to join in the parade of little devils, witches, ghosts, goblins, and other various and assorted monsters. It matters little that the parade also includes angels, and butterflies, and heroes. That -- they say -- is only part of the deception of Satan, the chief masquerader who wears his own costume as an angel of light.
At best -- they say -- evil triumphs because people fail to take evil seriously. They see no other reason for people looking into the face of evil and maintaining a spirit of joy. It's just gotta be a bad thing.
To me, that's just gotta be wrong. I was taught to take evil very seriously by the same loving adults who shrieked in mock fright at my first "boo." Those who showed my playmates and me how to play "cops and robbers" also taught us not to steal and to be on-guard against thieves. Sometimes I played the robber -- someone had to -- but later in life when I actually went into crime, it was on the side of the good guys as an anti-crime strategist.
Who cannot see that trick or treat is all about giving? It's about the adults in the neighborhood getting down and playing with the children, about giving even the littlest a special moment of pretend power. The straightforward dynamics following the door-knock are those of caring and sharing and praising and laughing. Evil? My pumpkin!
What the uptight upright don't get is that games provide the framework for facing up to evil, not for trivializing it. War toys and soldier costumes teach about war, not to be pro war. When the time came for me and others in my generation to put on real uniforms, it was because we were against war.
Costumes and guns don't teach evil; they merely show it. Evil teachers teach evil. Good teachers teach about evil, and they need all the props and visual aids the bad guys get to use.
There's something else that good teachers teach. Good teachers teach good. And for the good teachers who really get what Halloween is all about, it's good beyond being merely good to the kids. It's also good beyond portraying the conflict between good and evil. It's good because it is what those who've peeked at the book's last page know it to be -- the reality celebrated on Halloween, something I tried to capture with this poem over a decade ago: