Challaween

Tonight is Halloween, a night that nowadays is seen as a fun and secular American festival that has spread all over the world. And as such, it is celebrated by so many people who dress up, go to parties, and simply enjoy the occasion without giving too much thought about it. I like this aspect of Halloween: the light fun that plays with our fears.

Now, I have to admit, I didn’t grow up with Halloween. In Brazil, where I’m from, it wasn’t really part of our traditions when I was a child. That’s changing now; it’s getting bigger every year, especially with the influence of American culture and social media. But it still feels a bit imported, not quite ours. And honestly, I get quite the same feeling here in the UK. It’s fun, yes, but it doesn’t run in our veins the way it does for Americans. So for me, Halloween has always been something to look at with curiosity and ask: should we leave it to them, or can we find our own way to join in?

Since it is Shabbat, there’s one question that hangs in the air: what is the relationship between Judaism and Halloween?

Judaism has always recognised the existence of magic, mysticism, and sorcery. The Torah forbids them as pagan practices, not meant for God’s people. Yet archaeology and history tell us that Jews have long been fascinated by the unseen. In Jerusalem, during the time of the Second Temple, even some Kohanim had small clay fertility figures in their homes. Later, documents from the Cairo Genizah revealed Jewish amulets and spells written to keep bad spirits away or bring luck, many of them beautifully crafted. And our folklore is full of the mysterious and magical: the Golem who saved Prague’s Jews, the Dibuk who possessed a young bride, and even the dream of Fruma Sara in Fiddler on the Roof. Forbidden or not, we’ve always loved to imagine that hidden world.

At the same time, we remember that throughout history Jews, especially Jewish women, were accused of witchcraft and suffered terrible consequences. And there is one Jewish principle that sits uneasily with the spirit of Halloween: kavod ha-met, the respect and care we owe to the dead.

So what is Halloween, really? It all began right here, with the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, marking the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter, the Celtic New Year. People lit bonfires and wore costumes to ward off wandering spirits, believing that the boundary between the living and the dead grew thin that night. In the eighth century, Pope Gregory III declared November 1 as All Saints’ Day, which gradually absorbed many Samhain customs. The night before became All Hallows’ Eve, and eventually, Halloween.

Over the centuries, traditions blended and evolved. Trick-or-treating grew from both Celtic offerings for spirits and a ninth-century Christian custom called souling, when people went door to door asking for “soul cakes,” promising to pray for the dead in return. Even the Jack-o’-lantern comes from Irish folklore, the story of Jack, a drunkard and trickster who outwitted the Devil but was doomed to wander the earth with only a glowing ember inside a carved turnip to light his way.

From a halachic perspective, Halloween has both Christian and pagan roots, and is therefore not “kosher.” But as Progressive Jews, we can look beyond that. Today, Halloween often mirrors our modern world of excess. Families spend millions on sweets, costumes, and decorations for just a few hours of fun. What was once a night of imagination and community has, in many ways, become a carnival of consumption. It challenges us to think about faith, culture, health, and our shared responsibility for the planet.

Now, you might be thinking that I’ve suddenly turned into a grumpy rabbi who ruins everyone’s fun. Not really! This is where the Progressive Jewish soul flourishes. We take what’s in front of us, hold it up to our values, and sometimes adapt it to make it meaningful, maybe even adding a Jewish twist.

It’s a delicate balance. Avoiding Halloween might feel like the “Jewish” thing to do, but feeling left out can quietly erode our joy in being Jewish. Rather than forbid or surrender, we can talk about our values and our choices. Halloween can become a teachable moment, a chance to live our Progressive Jewish values: kavod (respect), tzedakah, briyut (health), and oneg (enjoyment), all in balance.

Perhaps the real question isn’t whether Jews should celebrate Halloween, but what we might learn from it. It invites us to reflect on our relationship with death, not as something to fear or sensationalise, but as a reminder to cherish life. Judaism teaches that while ghost stories can entertain, in real life the dead are not monsters; they are pathways to memory and holiness.

So yes, let’s skip the sugar overload and the costumes that objectify or offend. Instead, let’s reclaim the spirit of giving. Open the door and give to others. Donate old costumes, share sweets with a shelter or hospital, or buy food for those in need. In doing so, we remind ourselves that joy and goodness belong together, and that even on Halloween, we can still choose light over darkness.

And maybe, just maybe, we can add a little Jewish fun to the mix. Bake challah in playful shapes — pumpkins, ghosts, or plaits with a twist — and call it Challahween! Let’s gather, laugh, and celebrate, because that’s what choosing life is all about: embracing joy, creativity, and the people we love. When we do that, we turn a night of fear into a night of connection, and we honour the holiness of simply being alive together.

Happy Challahween, and Shabbat Shalom.