A Sermon for Galladel's Watch

There are many names for this evening, All Hallow’s Eve, Halajh’awen, All Saints’ Wake, and of course Galladel’s Watch. It is a holiday in which many believe in and even celebrate the thinning of the veil between the land of the living and the land of the dead. Our practices and traditions have come in part from different groups and clans. Some wear costumes to ward off evil spirits either by scaring them or by convincing them they’re one and the same. Others leave offerings of gifts and candy to the dearly departed, or the spirits which roam the night. Homes are decorated in a similar fashion and many carouse away and enjoy the night, for one evening pretending to be something other than what they are.

My personal favorite tradition is one that I came across while visiting a southern settlement, and one that I make labors to visit each year around this time. I met with a number of travelers who sat around at midnight, drinks in hand, and told tales of those near and dear to them who had passed on. Some had passed prematurely, and others at the end of a long and well lived life. We spoke about how they taught and influenced us, and how even after they had died we still lived for them and devoted ourselves to their memory.

Travance is a place where some of the horrors we speak and jest about in this holiday tend to become all too real. The recent example of the bone eater, the creature that attacked some weeks ago and left a path of death and madness in its wake may lead some to want to forget this holiday. To cast it from their memories and mourn in silence and solitude.

I beg you not to do that.

Do not confuse the madness of monsters with the role that Galladel represents. Death, though not something we are keen to greet, is a natural force within our world. It rarely comes when welcome, and all too often without any warning at all, but it is not something to be feared. Death is an ending, but there is life beyond it. It is the life of those others your own life has touched.

Look around at the children wearing their costumes. Look as they parade about dressed as the Heroes they idolize. Look as they clad themselves as the monsters they fear. For one night they cast that fear aside and revel in the joy of life. It may seem macabre on the outside, but there is a light like no other that shines on this night.

So I implore you. Live. Live and be the Heroes that I know each and every one of you can be. Stand up and face your fears. Go out and find others to walk the night with. Or take a seat and tell stories of those who are no longer with us so that others may know of their lives. Live a life full of stories and experience so that some day there is a child running around on Galladel’s Watch dressed like you. So that it’s your story being told fondly to others around a fire. Live a life that when Galladel hears these tales and asks you if you regret any of it, you can tell him ‘No’.

And may the tapestry that is weaved from your fate include the tale of tomorrow.

Praise Galladel. Praise the Lords of Light.

Yours in faith,
Father Leias Kline

Amen, Father Kline.



-Nalick

Hjolda! Well written, Gothi

I object, or more so disagree. I see you say that we should have no regrets? I would argue however it is the regrets that we have that make our decisions even more important. It is their overwhelming shadow that is cast upon us and helps us decide how we want to live our lives. Why should one want to die, or even embrace death on their part? I offer the phokus as an example of a way we all may cheat death at one point or another. To tell stories of the dead is not bad, but to revel on them; i find it unhealthy. I say all of this not out of disrespect, but out of a conflict of beliefs.

I understand that the life of a priest may not always be easy, and it is sometimes the questions and ideas of others that help to progress individuals of your nature further in their lives. So in a way I may be helping you in that regard.

I pose the question of you god; and why must you praise him? To your god, you are an ant. When an ant begs you for scraps of wine and bread do you intentionally gift it with crumbs? So why would your god? I would say you need to stand higher than your steeple, and meet your god eye to eye, only then may they ever truly acknowledge you. Speak to your god as friends would to one another, occasionally fight, but in the end be their friend; not an an ant. Personally I step on ants, and never praise my gods. I never say “Oh Holy” or “Oh magnificent”, those are only said if one wants something. Instead I say “My friend”, or “My cousin” for to treat them as equal makes you equal as well. If you are an equal to the gods, you may live as long as them. Although Gods do die, they die much slower than you or me, but it is still inevitable. People have already forgotten my gods, and they are not even dead yet. They are older than yours, but only still children.Your god may even be one of mine, simply more grown.

So I pose this question to all who read this and to Cousin Kline, what does your god think of you, and what do they think of the people who died?

-Moostrav Poetrevski

Moonstrav -

I have met Klein's god, and mine, and they are far more respectful of us than you suggest. They do not view us as ants, and I feel sorry for your belief that they do.

Also, when you step on ants with such disdain, do you welcome the day something on its level steps on you? Perhaps you should consider the thought of respecting all life, both above and below you.

Caldor

I like this holiday!

It's nice to think that the people who we've lost are a little closer for a while. Like a visit! I bet they would like the sweets, too! I will have to get some to leave out.

-Midori Suarez
Daughter of Mercy