Samhainophobia is a morbid fear of Hallowe’en. But why isn’t it called halloweenophobia, I hear you ask? Well, the word comes from ‘Samhain’, the name of an ancient Gaelic festival, which means ‘summer’s end’. Like our modern-day Hallowe’en, it was held on 31 October, and observed in Ireland, Scotland and the Isle of Man. In fact, Samhain is first mentioned in Irish literature as far back as the ninth century. It’s what’s known as a liminal festival, which means it marks the end of one thing and the start of another (in this case summer and winter). It was also the one day a year when the boundaries between realms became thin, allowing the spirits of the Otherworld (a supernatural realm in Celtic mythology) to cross over to Earth. The dead were also said to return for one night to visit their living relatives. Samhain was celebrated with partying and feasting and all that good stuff, as well as some (non-human, thankfully) sacrifices to the pagan gods for a good year ahead.
So, when did Samhain mutate into Hallowe’en? In the ninth century the Catholic church brought in a new feast day to celebrate saints called, unimaginatively, All Saints’ Day. And the old English words for ‘All Saints’ are ‘All Hallows’. The Catholic church already had form for co-opting pagan festival dates and traditions (see Christmas and Easter), so quickly rebranded Samhain as All Hallows’ Even (AKA ‘Eve’), which became Hallowe’en (that’s what the apostrophe is there for – to show that a letter is missing).
You might think trick or treating (or ‘trickle treeting’ as I saw it referred to on social media last week) is a modern-day American invention, but it actually has its roots in Samhain too. Poor children in medieval Europe would go door to door begging for food and money during the feast day, offering to pray for the souls of their neighbours’ recently departed relatives. This later morphed into the more familiar kids-mugging-you-for-sweets we get today.
Carving pumpkins is another ancient tradition, going all the way back to the 1660s. You can blame an Irishman called Stingy Jack for this – to cut a very long story short, he was a pisshead who had a run in with the Devil, and ended up walking the earth for all eternity with only a candle in a carved turnip to light his way. People began to make their own versions of Jack’s lanterns from various root vegetables, and put them in their windows or doorways to frighten him or any other wandering evil spirits away. Immigrants to the US brought jack-o’-lanterns with them, soon switching to the presumably more-available native pumpkins.
(If you’ve got some leftover pumpkins from Hallowe’en and you’re happy that Stingy Jack isn’t coming to get you, chuck them in your garden or some local woods. Apparently squirrels and rabbits love ’em. Farms and zoos might like them as well, so whatever you do, don’t bin them. Alright, lecture over.)