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Did you know that Halloween is “the highest satanic holiday of the year” and that “the Satanists do sacrifices on this day”?
Yeah, I had no idea about that either until I watched season 1, episode 3 of Nathan Fielder’s The Rehearsal.
Fielder pushed back on this assertion, pointing out that a google search of “origin of Halloween” returned “a Celtic tradition.”
Angela, the person crying Satan, wasn’t convinced.
And she’s not alone.
There are plenty of people, especially people belonging to certain religious organizations, who believe there is a connection between Satan and Halloween.
And by extension, between Satan and Halloween’s predecessor, the Gaelic festival Samhain.
But is there any truth to this satanic interpretation of the holiday?
I’m I. E. Kneverday, let’s take a look.
Pssst. You can watch a video adaptation of this video right here. Text continues below.
A Dark Lord of Death Named Saman?
Leave it to a British soldier to popularize the idea that there’s a connection between Samhain and Satan.
In his 1786 book, A Vindication of the Ancient History of Ireland, Charles Vallancey noted the following:
“The Irish deity Saman was supposed to be the judge of departed souls; at his direction they were condemned to be punished.”
Vallancey also equated this Irish Saman figure with the Zoroastrian sky god Asuman, referring to both as “the Angel of death.”
Now, in Islamic theology, “angel of death” is a title bestowed upon the archangel Azrael.
This same figure—or a very similar one—appears as “Ezrael the Angel of Wrath” in a New Testament apocryphal text, The Apocalypse of Peter.
And while Azrael isn’t Satan, I’d say he’s Satan-adjacent.
Like it wouldn’t look good if you’re this Saman guy, and someone’s accusing your namesake festival of being a Satanic sacrifice party, and they bring out Vallancey’s book as evidence…
Hmm. Let’s see here. Saman: “Irish deity… judge of departed souls… condemning them to be punished… the Angel of death.”
Granted, the soul-judging part doesn’t really fit either.
In the Bible, that’s God’s job.
Satan is presented as the tempter-in-chief.
A sower of chaos and conflict on Earth.
You might have assumed, like I did, that Satan ruled over hell.
But in the Bible, he never actually goes there, or rather he hasn’t gotten there yet.
And yes I’m familiar with 2 Peter 2:4, that’s not what that’s talking about.
If you don’t believe me, go ask Dan McClellan.
But ultimately none of this even matters, because as far as we can tell, Vallancey’s brief biography of this Saman character is total BS.
Who Is Samain in Irish Mythology?
A thorough scouring of the medieval texts where the Irish myths were first recorded reveals that there is no “judge of departed souls” or “angel of death” named Saman.
Don’t get me wrong, Irish mythology has plenty of death deities:
Donn, Bilé, The Morrígan.
As for a character that shares a name with the Samhain festival, you can find one in some versions of the story of Cian and Eithne, a.k.a. The Birth of Lugh, a.k.a. Balor and the Prophecy, a story that is foundational to Irish mythology’s redundantly named Mythological Cycle.
Buuut you might be disappointed by Samain’s role in the proceedings.
Pagan author and educator Patti Wigington put it best when she wrote:
“Although Samain (alternately, Sawen or Mac Samthainn) appears in a few versions of the story… he is a very obscure and minor character… he’s a guy who lost his brother’s magical cow, not the ‘lord of the dead.’”
Yeah, so in the story the Fomorian warlord Balor of the Evil Eye disguises himself as a little red-headed boy in order to steal a cow named Glas Gaibhnenn from Cian, who is a member of Ireland’s divine tribe the Tuatha Dé Danann.
Cian is having his brother Samain watch the cow while he’s away with their other brother on business and the disguised Balor is able to convince Samain that they’re conspiring against him.
Samain runs off to investigate.
Balor takes the cow.
That’s it.
That’s this dude Samain in Irish mythology.
Not an angel of death, let alone THE angel of death.
And while we could argue about whether or not he qualifies as a god, it’s irrelevant because he’s so irrelevant.
If you’re looking for something or someone Satanic in Irish mythology, the character Samain just isn’t a match.
But that’s not to say the devil isn’t lurking in the details of the Samhain celebration itself.
How Did the Ancient Gaels Celebrate Samhain?
At its core, Samhain was a harvest festival and a New Year festival, marking the end of summer and beginning of winter.
The ancient Gaelic/Goidelic Celtic-speakers, i.e., the Gaels, originally only observed the two seasons.
As a cross-quarter day, the festival falls approximately halfway between the autumnal equinox and the winter solstice.
It was originally observed on the evening of October 31st and would stretch into the following day, November 1st.
Although to the Gaels it was all one day because they measured their days evening to evening.
Anyway, the Gaels celebrated Samhain with feasting, bonfires tended by druids, and the carving of root vegetable lanterns that could be used to transfer embers from the druidic fires to home hearth fires.
But it wasn’t all fun and games.
Samhain was believed to be a time when the veil between the land of the living (our world), and the land of the dead (or Celtic Otherworld) could be lifted.
On Samhain, people could get into the Otherworld (kind of a big plot point of my new short film Samhain, shameless plug alert) and all manner of monster, ghost, and demon could get out.
It was thought that leaving treats out on your doorstep could perhaps appease such supernatural visitors.
Meanwhile, dressing up in a scary costume might help you blend in with the otherworldly crowd.
And of course, once you’ve got doorsteps loaded up with treats, and costumes giving people anonymity, my understanding of human nature leads me to believe that people, especially younger people, are gonna start taking those treats.
And if you’re a house that hasn’t left out treats?
Oh brother, those pretend demons are going to play some tricks.
That is admittedly a very concise and speculative and cutesy version of events.
But I really wanted to highlight how Samhain/Halloween could have evolved naturally without needing, at its center, some dark lord pulling the strings.
And yet pop culture has conditioned us to believe (at least in North America) that druids are associated with dark magic, that “Celtic” means “mystical,” and that a Samhain festival must involve some sort of blood sacrifice.
Meanwhile, when we look at how Samhain was portrayed in Irish mythology; in the actual stories recorded by the scribes…
Oh Jesus Christ.
Did the Gaels Make Sacrifices on Samhain?
So know how in the Lebor Gabála Érenn, or Book of the Taking of Ireland, commonly known as the Book of Invasions, there are six mythical races that settle in Ireland?
Welp, the third race are the people of Nemed, who are famous for…getting their butts kicked by a group of monstrous marauders from a neighboring island.
Those neighbors are the Fomorians or Fomori.
And every year the Fomorians demand a tax from the people or Nemed.
And that tax is due on Samhain.
To quote the Lebor Gabála Érenn:
“The progeny of Nemed were under great oppression after his time in Ireland… Two thirds of the progeny, the wheat, and the milk of the people of Ireland (had to be brought) every Samain to Mag Cetne. Wrath and sadness seized on the men of Ireland for the burden of the tax. They all went to fight against the Fomoraig.”
To clarify, “two thirds of the progeny” means two thirds of the children who are born in that year.
Yikes.
But to clarify further:
While this obviously isn’t great, it isn’t a “Samhain sacrifice” performed in a religious capacity—it’s an annual tribute that happens to be due on Samhain.
And it makes sense for an annual tribute to be due on Samhain because, as I mentioned earlier, to the people telling these stories, the Gaels, Samhain was their New Year.
That being said, Scottish scholar J.A. MacCulloch theorizes that…
“If the Fomorians are gods of darkness, or, preferably, aboriginal deities, the tribute must be explained as a dim memory of sacrifice offered at the beginning of winter when the powers of darkness and blight are in the ascendant.”
Viewed through this lens, the Fomorians are manifestations of the darkness and crop death that come with winter.
And the implication is that early Gaels may have made sacrifices in an attempt to influence the weather and make their winters more mild and to ensure the community remained healthy.
Such blood sacrifices could have evolved into offerings of food instead, which presents us with an alternate explanation for the origin of Halloween candy.
The only thing missing here…is Satan.
Because obviously what I’ve been describing is a practice that would’ve been part of an ancient Celtic religion, i.e. Celtic paganism.
And paganism is different from satanism.
What’s the Difference Between Paganism and Satanism?
A quick primer:
Paganism refers to a broad spectrum of polytheistic religions with non-Christian or non-Abhrahamic roots.
Satanism, in contrast, arose as a response to or critique of the Abrahamic religions.
And while it too has many branches, the common thread is that Satan is upheld as a symbol of individualism and rebellion against unjust and arbitrary authority.
Some small groups and individuals take it a step further and actually venerate Satan as a deity.
But the largest Satanist religions, including the Church of Satan, which was founded by Anton LaVey in 1966, are atheistic in nature.
Which is to say:
Most Satanists don’t actually worship Satan, because they don’t believe he’s real, and they don’t believe God’s real.
So they’re not sacrificing anything to Satan on Samhain or Halloween because that’s not something they do.
At least when we’re talking about the big, organized Satanic religions.
Because obviously, there could be people performing quote-unquote “Satanic” rituals in their basements or off in the woods right now.
Which brings us to how the term “Satanism” first came into use back in the 1560s:
It was a pejorative, not surprisingly.
If someone wanted to accuse someone else of engaging in a religious practice that went against their Christian dogma, “Satanism” would be the charge.
Bringing it back to The Rehearsal, the person in that episode could be using the terms “Satanic” and “Satanists” in that same way.
Anyone who’s doing something non-Christian, in her eyes, is a Satanist.
But I don’t know.
I get the sense she thinks there are people out in the woods right now making covenants with a literal, physical Satan.
Which is a very 17th-century mindset—something I explore in more detail in my video on the film The VVitch (available over on my FolkloreInFilm channel).
Now, to play Devil’s advocate…
Are Pagan Horned Gods the Devil in Disguise?
There is a workaround here if we want to “prove” Samhain has a Satanic origin.
We just need to say:
Satan was actually behind all of that Iron Age Gaelic pagan stuff.
The great deceiver hath deceiveth them.
Those druidic Samhain bonfires?
Actually the fires of hell…a place Satan has never been, incidentally.
As for modern paganism, just look at who many neopagans are worshipping these days:
A triple goddess and a horned god.
That’s your devil in disguise right there.
And everyone knows that the horned god Cernunnos is Celtic.
Which is true-ish.
Cernunnos could better be described as a Gaulish or Gallo-Roman deity.
He was variously understood to be a god of fertility, nature, and perhaps most pertintently, the underworld.
This sounds promising from an, “oh, this dude is actually Satan, perspective,” until we remember Satan doesn’t rule an underworld.
But those horns!
Is it a coincidence that the devil is often depicted with horns and that the Gauls have the horned Cernunnos and the Greeks have the horned Pan and the Hindus have the horned Pashupati?
Clearly, this is some kind of ancient, devil-worship cult conspiracy, right?
Three things:
First, I think it’s actually pretty likely we’d get man-with-animal-horns iconography popping up independently.
The earliest example was created some 14,000 years ago, so as a motif it predates every civilization ever.
Second, even if you’re team “no, there must be a shared mythological origin between Cernunnos and Pan and Pashupati,” that’s also entirely feasible, since the Gaulish, Greek, and Hindi languages all have a common linguistic progenitor, Proto-Indo-European.
So certain aspects of a shared Proto-Indo-European religion/mythology likely persisted into Gaulish, Greek, Hindu, and other traditions.
Third, Satan didn’t start getting depicted with horns until the Middle Ages.
I probably should have led with that one.
And artists modeled their depictions of Satan after depictions of Pan.
To quote scholar Jeffrey Burton Russell:
“The iconographic influence of Pan upon the Devil is enormous.”
I also want to reiterate the point that Cernunnos, that famed Celtic horned god, isn’t Irish.
Or Gaelic.
And while the Gaulish Celtic-speakers and Gaelic Celtic-speakers did appear to have some deities in common—Lugus and Lugh, for example—there is no direct horned god equivalent in the Irish pantheon.
Believe me, I looked.
The closest I could find is The Dagda, the father of the Irish gods, who, on one occasion, jokingly refers to himself as “the horned man.”
Not because he has antlers sprouting from his head, mind you, but because he’s…uh…in the mood.
Speaking of which, I’d be remiss not to mention that The Dagda famously knocks boots with The Morrígan, goddess of battle, fate, and territorial sovereignty, on Samhain—or more specifically “near the All Hallows of the battle.”
The battle in question being the Second Battle of Mag Tuired, which saw the Tuatha Dé Danann finally put an end to Ireland’s Fomorian foes.
And while this single mention of a single instance of intimacy between The Dagda and The Morrígan may not seem like much on its surface, there might be a deeper meaning.
To quote archaeologist Barry Cunliffe:
“The Dagda engaged in intercourse with the Morrígan once a year on the feast of Samain, thus commanding her protection for his people for the year to come.”
Now that’s a Samhain sacrifice.
Still doesn’t feel very Satanic though, does it?
Is the God of Many Talents Lugh the Irish Lucifer?
If only Irish mythology had a figure like the Norse trickster god Loki, you know?
Famed not only for his horns but for his ability to tempt and manipulate people,
What’s more, as the son of a jötunn, Loki is the descendant of an ostensibly evil, dare I say demonic race.
And of course, if you’ve seen my video comparing the Norse and Irish pantheons, you know where I’m going with this.
The Norse Loki has a potential Irish cognate:
The aforementioned Lugh.
Lugh is the god of many talents.
He’s persuasive.
A smooth-talker.
As a mere boy, he strolls into Tara, seat of Ireland’s High King, Nuada of the Silver Hand, and impresses him so much Nuada puts him in charge.
This event—known as the coming of Lugh—famously occurs on Samhain.
After years of preparation, Lugh then leads the Tuatha Dé Danann into battle against their oppressors, the Fomorians.
This battle, the aforementioned Second Battle of Mag Tuired, also occurs on Samhain.
Oh, and get this:
Just as Loki is part jötunn, Lugh is part Fomorian.
Lugh is actually the grandson of the greatest Fomorian warrior, Balor of the Evil Eye, who can incinerate entire countrysides with a glance (grandpaaa!).
Or, he could do that…
Until Lugh launched a projectile into his grandpa’s Evil Eye, killing him.
*cheering*
Lugh.
Lugh.
Lugh.
Lu…cifer?
Yeah, there’s also the name thing.
Lucifer, of course, is the name of the fallen angel who later becomes conflated with Satan in Christian tradition.
A literal translation of the name Lucifer is “light-bringer” or “light-bringing.”
And the first part of that name, the light part, ultimately stems back to the Proto-Indo-European root *leuk-, meaning light or shine.
And lo and behold, one popular etymology of the Irish name Lugh is that it derives from the same Proto-Indo-European root *leuk- meaning “light” or “shine.”
This etymology makes sense if you’re familiar with how the Fomorians describe Lugh in the Irish myth The Fate of the Children of Turenn.
And I quote:
“It is then Bres, son of Elathan, rose up and said: ‘It is a wonder to me the sun to be rising in the west to-day, and it rising in the east every other day.” “It would be better for us it to be the sun,” said the Druids. “What else is it?” said he. “It is the shining of the face of Lugh.”
So, yeah. Lugh and Lucifer.
Both a couple of shiny boys.
And while Lugh is clearly associated with Samhain, he actually already has his own cross-quarter day.
Or at least one that bears his name:
It’s on the first of August, falling between the summer solstice and the autumnal equinox.
And like Samhain, it’s a harvest festival.
And it’s theorized that this festival would have essentially lasted the entire harvest, ending with a big shebang on Samhain.
So the idea that Lugh is the god reigning over that part of the year could work.
And the big shebang I just mentioned is Lugh killing Balor.
Extinguishing his fiery eye.
Remember earlier when I talked about the Gaels using root vegetable lanterns, i.e., jack-o’-lanterns, to carry embers?
The reason they did that is because on Samhain, everyone would extinguish their home hearth fires.
Then the communal druidic fire would be lit, marking the beginning of the new year.
So maybe the extinguishing of those hearth fires is the symbolic killing of Balor.
Which means on Samhain, the Gaels were celebrating Lugh’s triumph over his people’s oppressors.
And thus on Halloween, we are essentially commemorating a pagan Irish god with mythological and etymological ties to Lucifer, a.k.a. Satan.
Someone call Nathan Fielder…
Angela was right.
Note: This piece relied on research I did for two earlier pieces:
- The Mythology of Samhain: 6 Stories That Give Samhain Added Significance
- Was There an Irish God Named Samhain?
Want to learn the rest of the Samhain story? Check out:
Samhain in Your Pocket
Perhaps the most important holiday on the ancient Celtic calendar, Samhain marks the end of summer and the beginning of a new pastoral year. It is a liminal time—a time when the forces of light and darkness, warmth and cold, growth and blight, are in conflict. A time when the barrier between the land of the living and the land of the dead is at its thinnest. A time when all manner of spirits and demons are wont to cross over from the Celtic Otherworld. Learn more…