The Sacred (& Spooky) Practice of Welcome

“Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.”

— Hebrews 13:2

What if the stranger at the door is an opportunity to encounter Christ?

I love the mystery of this verse. We may never know the whole story of the person standing on the other side. We may not know what they are carrying, where they've come from, or what they need. But Scripture invites us to practice hospitality anyway—to make room, to offer welcome, and to remain open to the possibility that Christ might meet us there.

Maybe that's part of what makes Halloween so interesting.

For one night, strangers literally come knocking, and we open the door. We offer something good. We welcome them without needing to know everything about them first.

Now, granted, the ‘strangers’ are cute little kiddies, with the odd teenager in the mix (and can we please normalize teenagers trick-or-treating?!); but they represent unknown families and unseen stories—people we might otherwise never cross paths with.

I think it’s interesting to consider the history of Halloween here and how it has roots in ancient Christian practices.

A Holy History of Halloween

Halloween is part of the Christian liturgical season known as Allhallowtide, which includes three days:

October 31 — Halloween (All Hallows’ Eve): the eve of All Saints’ Day.

November 1 — All Saints’ Day: a feast remembering the saints and martyrs of the Church.

November 2 — All Souls’ Day: a day to commemorate the faithful departed.

The custom of trick-or-treating, for example, has roots in a practice called “souling.” On All Hallows’ Eve, people—particularly those who were poor—would travel from home to home offering prayers for the souls of deceased family members in exchange for a soul cake, a small shortbread-like cookie made with dried fruit and nuts. Both rich and poor would dress in disguise, receiving and giving anonymously in keeping with Jesus’ teaching about generosity.

What I love about this history is the picture it paints:

The rich and the poor.
The living and the dead.
The stranger and the neighbor.
Gathered together as one community of grace.

What if Halloween doesn't have to be a holiday centered on fear or strictly the paranormal? What if it could also be an invitation into generosity, joy, welcome, and neighborliness? A common ground drawing neighbor to neighbor and home to home in an increasingly divided world. (Sacred Seasons: A Family Guide to Center Your Year Around Jesus)

What If We Open the Door?

One of Aelea’s favorite quotes captures this beautifully:

“Halloween is a day we get it right. Strangers come to us beautiful, ugly, odd or scary. We accept them all without question. We compliment them, treat them kindly, and give them good things. Why don’t we live like that?” — Steve Garnass-Holmes

I love the simplicity of that question:

Why don't we live like that?

On Halloween, we open the door to people we don't know. We don't know what their story is. We don't know what their family looks like behind their front door. We don't know what they've been carrying. We simply open the door. We delight in their costumes. We offer something good. And for a few brief moments, there is connection between strangers.

Maybe that is something worth practicing beyond October 31.

Maybe hospitality isn't just about having the perfect home or preparing the perfect meal. Maybe hospitality is a posture of the heart—a willingness to make room for the person who is different from us, unfamiliar to us, or even a little bit spooky to us.

Maybe the practice of welcome begins with simply being willing to open the door.

A Contemplative Practice: Opening the Door

This month, consider making Halloween a contemplative practice.

Find a quiet place and imagine yourself standing inside your home on Halloween night. You hear the doorbell. Before you open the door, pause. Take a slow breath. Notice what happens inside you when you imagine someone unfamiliar standing on the other side. Then ask yourself:

Who do I naturally open the door to?

Who am I hesitant to welcome?

Who feels unfamiliar, different, or even a little threatening to me?

Don't judge your answers. Just notice.

Now imagine opening the door.

Imagine looking into the face of someone you don't know and choosing curiosity instead of suspicion. Choosing delight instead of judgment. Choosing generosity instead of scarcity. Choosing welcome instead of fear.

Take another slow breath. And ask:

Where might God be inviting me to open a door in my life?

Maybe it's a literal door.

Maybe it's a relationship.

Maybe it's a conversation.

Maybe it's a neighborhood.

Maybe it's a part of yourself you've kept hidden away.

Maybe it's someone whose story you haven't taken the time to know.

Sit with that invitation for a few moments.

Then, if it feels meaningful, place a hand over your heart and pray:

God of welcome,
make my heart a place of hospitality.
Help me recognize your image in the stranger,
your presence in my neighbor,
and your love in the places I least expect to find it.
Teach me to open the door.
Amen.