 |
| The Sanitary Candy Chute of Halloween 2020 |
When was the last time this happened? This simple question opened quite the box of frogs this past Saturday.
You remember Saturday: gorgeous weather, playoffs on the field all day and Halloween at the door that night. Saturday was preamble to Sunday, which predictably brought All Saints Day and more surprisingly the extra hour of Standard Time – or was it the pawned hour of Daylight Savings Time? Either way, I couldn’t remember the last time a weekend stacked all this one on top of another, so I looked for the last time Saturday was Halloween and Sunday All Saints, and there it stood in the book we hate to open: Anno Domini 2020.
This year the weekend-bookend fall of these dates brought excitement to the Holy House of Soubirous, as I always enjoy the stream of trick-or-treaters at the door. As called for in the Ritual I made a cauldron of chili, the first of the season, so the boys could have their chow at the appointed time even if I were called to be at the door. No sooner had I served them than the doorbell rang, and I was gone for twenty minutes before I returned for my first two bites, then the bell again and I barely made it back in time to see them finish their dessert. Beginning before the evening Mass started at five and culminating in a solitary suppliant approaching out of the darkness just after nine o’clock, it was a delightfully manic evening.
Six years ago for the last Saturday Halloween, restrictions and reluctance were the order of the day. Taking my duty seriously, I wanted everybody at my door who wanted a treat to receive a treat, so to dispel all fear and hesitation Mr. Dao rigged a PVC pipe from my second-story window above the front door. I sat by the window and when the monsters arrived, I would use a pair of barbecue tongs (look, no hands!) to drop a candy bar into the chute, through which it would pass thence to emerge and fall into the basket wired to the porch rail below. The ghoul would then hoot, claim his sanitary prize, and set off for other victims. The number of trick-or-treaters was surely down, but their enthusiasm was way up.
This year for All Saints Sunday all the Masses were crowded, everybody in a really good mood. They had plenty of sleep, arrived on time or even early, and lingered long outside after Mass enjoying the bright autumn and one another’s company. In 2020, nobody was in a good mood, and Mass was still – again? -- for the few and unbowed. Masks were not just for trick-or-treating then.
The love of God can pull good out of evil, and human memory can emphasize the good to diminish the evil and its nasty aftertaste. When was the last time this happened? A simple question led me to remember the hilarity of the candy-safety chute rather than the masks and malice of that afflicted time.
And yet. That shadowed joy set contrast to the holiday weekend this year, spotless as the fair weather and the pied beauty of the trees. 237 tricksters presented themselves at my door and went away treated. I cannot convey the hilarity. Come morning, a vigorous throng mirrored the rejoicing multitude round the throne which no man can number, worshipping God and merging cries of blessing and glory, wisdom and thanksgiving, honor, power, and might. All Saints, indeed. Glory upon glory, every time it happens.
Monsignor Smith
