It was a special October morning at St. Mary’s Church in Dubai, the air fresh with the promise of winter after the sweltering summer months. The church buzzed with the chatter of families, the laughter of children, and the soft rustle of prayer books. I attended Mass with my two teens, Marta and Zac. October, dedicated to Mother Mary, always felt more vibrant, infused with a sense of renewal and hope.

As the Mass began, the usual hustle transformed into a sacred calm. The priest’s voice broke through the stillness during the announcements, and I caught Marta’s brow furrowing in curiosity when the priest mentioned “Holyween.” Her eyes darted to me, and I could see the gears turning in her mind as she connected the dots with Halloween. The priest continued, “This year, there will be a children’s parade where they can dress in the costumes of saints.” My heart swelled with gratitude; the church’s initiative felt like a brave step toward guiding the next generation to embrace traditions biblically.

For years, I had been a staunch opponent of Halloween. I believed it lured children into darker themes disguised as innocent fun. As I drove home, I started, “It’s the eve of All Saints’ Day, but Halloween has strayed from its original purpose. While I appreciate the church’s rebranding, I worry about the traditions that have crept in. Just look around—stores filled with devil costumes. When we embody those themes, even innocently, we invite unwanted spirits into our lives. Sin can alter our identities—just look at Adam and Eve.”

“Oh no,” Marta sighed, scrunching her face in exaggerated disgust. “Too much advice on a Sunday morning!”

She chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Do you remember who you dressed me up as for catechism - saint’s day years back?”

Marta’s eyes sparkled as she reminisced. “I was Little Flower! You dressed me in that flowery dress because we couldn’t find a real saint costume.”

Zac chimed in, grinning, “Mom made it easy! I said “Getting a devil outfit is simple—just hit the shops. Finding a saint costume? That’s tough, like sainthood itself.”

I felt the urge to emphasize my point, even as they rolled their eyes. “Yes, it’s a challenge to embrace sainthood in this materialistic world. It requires intention and thoughtfulness.”

Smiling at the memory, I turned to them. “So, who do you think most kids will dress as this year?”

“Carlo Acutis!” I said with enthusiasm. “It’s easy—just wear your best jeans and a stylish t-shirt. This year’s parade will be full of Carlos!”

Marta raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Why Carlo?”

“Because he’s a modern saint!” I explained, excitement bubbling within me. “He showed us that holiness is attainable, even in our digital age. His love for the Eucharist and Mother Mary was extraordinary. Imagine—someone so young, and yet his heart burned with love for Christ.” His body is open for public veneration in Assisi.

As I recalled St. Paul’s words to the Corinthians, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit?” (I Corinthians 6 19-20) I noticed Marta’s eyes glazing over slightly. I continued gently, “And remember, our bodies are sacred. We should be mindful of how we present ourselves. Tattoos and provocative styles might not honour that.”

“Mom, don’t be so deep,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I just want free candy! You know my friends, they get lot of candies from their neighbourhood when they ask the question, Trick or Treat on Halloween. Obviously, the elders don’t want to be tricked when they see this little disguised devil in the backyard and end up giving candies as treats. Isn’t that just innocent?”

I chuckled, knowing her dismissive tone was all in good fun.

“There are no free lunches, Marta. Those chocolates might come at the cost of your soul. “The entire tradition of the eve of All souls day got commercialised by candy and costume makers who infused devils and horror into this tradition. What a way to mislead the world?

Her expression turned serious for a moment. “But it’s just candy!”

Leaning in closer, I was determined to help her understand. “When we dress up as little demons or indulge in themes contrary to the Gospel, we risk straying from our path. The first commandment clearly states, ‘You shall have no other gods.’ Deception doesn’t come from God.”

Marta sighed again. “I just wanted some candy.”

I replied, “The real question is not Trick or Treat but Your Soul or Treat?”

She paused, considering, then said, “My Soul. Candy will finish too fast, and my happiness won’t last long.”

Zac, ever the economist, added with a smirk, “The more candy you eat, the less satisfying it becomes. That’s the theory of diminishing marginal utility.”

I smiled at their banter, feeling a sense of hope. “It would be great to give candy to the kids who answer ‘soul’ when asked, ‘Your Soul or Treat.’”

As we walked home, the conversation lingered in the air, a blend of innocence and wisdom swirling around us. Each step echoed the delicate balance of faith and childhood. I realized that perhaps this year could be different. We could create our own traditions, weaving joy with meaning, ensuring that faith and childhood could coexist beautifully.

With renewed enthusiasm, I said to Marta and Zac, “This Holyween, let’s ask our friends, ‘Soul or Treat?’”

They nodded in affirmation, their faces lighting up with the excitement of new possibilities. “It’s always one step at a time,” I added, smiling at my children, grateful for their openness and the journey we were on together.