By John Zmirak and Denise Matychowiak

Halloween holiday has a very long pedigree, reaching back into Celtic pagan days, when peasants believed that the times that marked transitions between the seasons—such as the autumn equinox, which happens around this date—opened the door between our world and the Unseen realm of the spirits. For a few days every year, the dead could walk the earth again, and the powers possessed by fairies, witches, demons and other "undocumented residents" were greater than ever. They could kidnap children, blight crops, poison wells, and bring on plagues with impunity on this night, which the Celts called "Samhain." In part to fool the spirits by passing as one of their own, country folk would dress up as these creatures themselves. They might also have hoped to placate these enemies of mankind—or even to make fun of them. It was this last meaning that Christian missionaries decided to give the holiday as they spread the new faith through old Europe. With few exceptions, monks and preachers gave their new converts permission to keep up their old traditions—provided they were willing to instill them with new meaning.

To help the newbies along, the Church created feasts of its own to fit the season. The Feast of All Saints (All Hallows) marks the special activity of friendly spirits from the Other Side—serving as a kind of Tomb of the Unknown Saints. The Feast of All Souls, gives people the chance to pray for their dead friends and family, and help them climb into Heaven and escape the sufferings of purgatory—assuming you want to help them.

In America, the eve of All Hallows (Hallow'een) has been commercialized, and lurched backwards quite a ways towards its pagan roots. But in other lands and certain regions, the day is still marked with celebrations that carry a religious punch. For instance, Mexicans revive the gorier elements of their country's heart-rending Aztec past, celebrating their "Day of the Dead" by dressing up as skeletons, making cookies they call "Dead Man's Bread" and decorating their homes with "luminarias," candles inside paper bags marked with skulls and other uplifting insignia that flicker, dangerously, all through the night.Ê

In case you've forgotten, Purgatory is that awkward transitional phase most of us (we hope) go through en route from earth to heaven. Call it "metaphysical puberty," since it's marked by all the discomfort, awkwardness and growing pains we associate with early teenagers and the newly dead. Like a teen, you're entering a strange new world—and you're not too happy about what's happening to your skin.

The doctrine of Purgatory is pretty simple: When most of us die, our souls are like SUVs caked in mud. So God set up a kind of spiritual car wash for us to clean off all the crud we've accumulated over 70 mediocre (or 27 really sexy and eventful) years. Dante, in his Purgatorio, saw the realm of purification as a mountain, around which sinners march in a spiraling path upward to heaven. Around and around each sinner would trudge, on a different level according to his favorite sin, hearing endlessly rehearsed every thing he had ever done wrong, and what he should have done instead. (It's like slogging your way to the top of a sixth-floor walk-up—to have dinner with your parents.)

This is what Halloween is said to be about: praying for these souls. n

Adapted from The Bad Catholic's Good To Good Living: A Loving Look At The Lighter Side of The Catholic Faith With Recipes For Feasts And Fun. For more information go to badcatholics.com.