From Undas to Halloween
Growing up in the Philippines, one of the most memorable days of the year was All Souls’ Day.
Every year, as November approached, families prepared for their annual pilgrimage to the cemetery. We gathered flowers, candles, food, and whatever else we needed for a long visit to the graves of our departed loved ones. For us children, it was an occasion filled with anticipation. It was a day of family gathering. We would see relatives, spend time with cousins, and listen to conversations and stories that connected us to family members we hadn’t seen for a while.
Looking back, I realize that these visits were among my earliest experiences of understanding family, belonging, and the meaning of remembering those who came before us.
In the Philippines, the observance is commonly known as Undas, encompassing All Saints’ Day on November 1 and All Souls’ Day on November 2. Although these are distinct celebrations in the Catholic calendar, Filipino families often observe them together, with cemetery visits beginning days before November 1.
The Cemetery as a Place of Family and Faith
To someone unfamiliar with Filipino culture, the sight of crowded cemeteries during Undas might seem unusual. Families bring food, chairs, flowers, and candles. Some spend hours at the graveside, while others remain overnight. Children play, relatives exchange stories, and generations gather around the resting places of their ancestors.
It is solemn, but it is not necessarily sad.
I remember the cemetery as a place where death and life seemed to coexist naturally. There was prayer, certainly, but also laughter, conversation, and the ordinary sounds of family life. Visiting the dead was not simply an obligation. It was an opportunity to reconnect with the living.
As a child, I did not fully understand the theology behind praying for the dead. I knew only that we were there because these people mattered to us. Their names were spoken, their stories remembered, and their resting places cared for.
Only later did I appreciate how profoundly Catholic this practice was. The Church teaches that death does not sever the communion of believers in Christ. In praying for the faithful departed, we express hope in the resurrection and our continuing spiritual bond with those who have gone before us.
Undas gave that belief a tangible expression. We did not merely talk about remembering our ancestors. We spent time with them.
From Undas to Halloween
In recent years, however, the atmosphere surrounding this Holy Day has been changing.
Halloween, once a relatively minor observance in much of the Philippines, has become increasingly visible, especially in urban areas. Shopping malls organize costume contests, businesses promote themed merchandise, and social media fills with elaborate decorations, parties, and photographs.
Dressing up as superheroes, witches, ghosts, or movie characters is now a bigger thing. Restaurants and commercial establishments have embraced Halloween as another seasonal celebration.
There is nothing inherently wrong with children enjoying costumes or families participating in harmless festivities. Traditions naturally evolve, and Filipino culture has always been remarkably adaptive. Yet I sometimes wonder whether the growing commercialization of Halloween risks overshadowing the more meaningful traditions of Undas.
Halloween invites us to dress up as someone else we don’t really know. Undas invites us to remember loved ones, to remember who we are and where we came from. One emphasizes entertainment and imagination; the other, remembrance and belonging. They need not compete, but they should not be confused.
Halloween has taken over the holy day, but it is my hope that the next generations will continue to appreciate the spiritual and cultural significance of visiting the graves of their ancestors. May this day of commemoration help them discover connection that transcends life, and may they find meaning in their pursuits and their dreams.
Remembering Those Who Came Before Us
For Filipinos, remembering the dead is also a way of remembering ourselves.
Our identities are shaped not only by personal achievements and individual choices, but by the sacrifices, struggles, faith, and love of generations before us. We inherit stories, values, traditions, and even opportunities from people whose lives made ours possible. For me, visiting my lolos and lolas in the cemetery is a reminder of the sacrifices they made especially for me to live and thrive in America.
In Filipino culture, where family relationships extend across generations, Undas offers an important reminder that belonging does not end at the grave.
As an immigrant, I recognize how easily traditions can fade when we are separated from the places where they were formed. Our children may grow up without experiencing the crowded cemeteries, candlelit graves, and extended family gatherings that were once familiar parts of our childhood. But the meaning of Undas can travel with us.
We can visit cemeteries wherever we live, offer Masses for departed relatives, light candles, pray for their souls, and share their stories with younger generations. We can teach our children the names of their grandparents and great-grandparents, not simply as entries in a family tree, but as people whose lives continue to shape our own.
A Tradition to Keep
When I think back to those childhood visits to the cemetery, I remember more than the graves. I remember the people gathered around them, the conversations, the prayers, and the sense that I belonged to something larger than myself, something larger than the living.
What seemed like an ordinary family tradition was, in fact, an early lesson in faith, gratitude, and the communion of saints. Perhaps that is the enduring gift of Undas. In a world increasingly preoccupied with the present, it asks us to remember the past. In a culture that often avoids conversations about death, it invites us to confront mortality with faith and hope.
And in a society where family connections can become scattered across cities, countries, and continents, it calls us to remember that our lives are part of a much larger story.
Halloween may bring costumes, candy, and celebrations. But All Souls’ Day offers something that cannot be purchased or manufactured: the opportunity to remember, to pray, and to remain connected to those whose love and sacrifices helped make us who we are. Their lives gave ours meaning.
The candles we light may eventually burn out, but the memories, faith, and love they represent can continue to illuminate generations to come.
