As a high school theology teacher, every October brings a predictable but fascinating shift in the classroom dynamic. Questions arise about ghosts, demons, and Ouija boards—an annual engagement with the supernatural that peaks just as Halloween decorations start to fill store shelves. For many of my students, this curiosity feels innocent enough, a seasonal interest in the occult that quickly fades with the arrival of November. Yet, every year I am struck by how this fleeting fascination, rooted in something as seemingly trivial as spooky stories, reflects a deeper and more profound yearning.
There is something beneath their questions, something more than the thrill of ghost tales or the pop-culture appeal of witches and vampires. It is a recognition—though often unarticulated—of the existence of a reality beyond the material world, a nod to the idea that there is more to life than what can be measured, calculated, or observed. This, I believe, is where educators, especially those of us in religious settings, can seize an opportunity. The problem isn’t that students are asking these questions, but that the questions so often fizzle out, leaving them spiritually unmoored when the season of jack-o’-lanterns passes.
What’s happening in these moments of inquiry is something that, at first glance, seems shallow or faddish, but, in reality, it’s something as old as humanity itself. It’s the same impulse that ancient peoples had when they told stories of gods and spirits to explain their fears of the unknown. It’s the same impulse that medieval Catholics had when they revered saints and angels as intermediaries between the seen and unseen worlds. And it’s the same impulse we see today, though often filtered through the lens of secular entertainment.
Take the surge of interest in horror movies or ghost-hunting shows. These trends might appear as a simple love of spectacle, but I would argue that they point to a much deeper reality: a quiet acknowledgment that the modern world, for all its science and rationalism, has not fully erased the sense that there is more to the cosmos than what we can empirically observe. My students’ questions, whether about séances or apparitions, speak to this intuition—that the unseen world still matters.
But here lies the challenge: how do we, as educators, guide this interest beyond its immediate, superficial manifestations? How do we help students see that the questions they are asking about ghosts and spirits are actually spiritual in nature—not just cultural curiosities to be discarded when the calendar flips to November 1st?
One problem, of course, is that the modern world has commodified the supernatural. The sacred and the mysterious have been reduced to entertainment, from Halloween costumes to TV specials. This trivialization means that the serious engagement with spiritual realities, the kind that would involve a sustained relationship with God or an actual exploration of Catholic theology, rarely happens. Instead, young people move from a brief flirtation with the spooky to the next cultural phenomenon, never delving into the more enduring questions that underlie their intrigue.
Historically, the Catholic Church has always provided an answer to this yearning for something beyond the material world. The sacramental life of the Church—its rituals, its liturgy, and its saints—offers a tangible connection to the divine, a way of living in communion with the unseen that is grounded not in fantasy, but in truth. In today’s secular age, where the language of faith is increasingly foreign, students often miss the connection. Their brief fascination with the supernatural doesn’t translate into a lasting relationship with God because they don’t realize that the Church has always been in the business of engaging with mysteries far greater than the ones they encounter in horror films.
Here, educators have a role to play, though it requires more than simply providing the “right” answers to questions about the occult. What’s needed is a reframing of the conversation itself. Rather than dismissing their questions as silly or trivial, we should acknowledge the seriousness of what they’re really asking. When a student asks about ghosts, the question behind the question is often: What happens when we die? When they ask about demons, they are asking: Is there really evil in the world? These are the perennial questions of human existence, and they deserve to be addressed as such.
The challenge, then, is how to guide students from this seasonal engagement with the supernatural toward a sustained relationship with God. This isn’t easy in a culture that thrives on distraction, where entertainment is designed to capture attention for only the briefest moment. But it can be done. The key is to show students that the Church offers something far more profound and satisfying than a month-long obsession with the occult. The mysteries of the faith—the Trinity, the Incarnation, the Eucharist—are infinitely richer and more rewarding than any ghost story.
To do this, we need to reconnect students with the sacramental imagination that has long been at the heart of Catholic spirituality. This is the idea that the material world—bread, wine, water, oil—can serve as a conduit to the divine. It is an imagination that sees the world as charged with the grandeur of God, where angels and saints are not relics of a medieval past but living realities that continue to shape our lives today. By helping students tap into this worldview, we can help them move beyond the fleeting intrigue of Halloween and into a deeper, more enduring relationship with the divine.
No longer should we dismiss their fascination with the supernatural as entirely frivolous. In fact, it’s a natural entry point into the broader questions of faith. We must channel that interest in a way that leads them toward the truth. The Church has always engaged with the supernatural, but it does so within the context of God’s revelation and the ultimate hope of resurrection, not as a fleeting curiosity.
In the end, the questions my students ask each October are not just about ghosts and ghouls. They are about the fundamental human desire to know what lies beyond this world. Our task as Catholic educators is to help them see that this desire can only be fully satisfied by the One who created both the seen and unseen realms—and who invites them into a relationship not just for a season, but for eternity.
