Can Halloween and the Catholic Church really go together? One Bavarian priest decided to find out.
In the city of Freising, parish vicar Michael Korell organised what he called a “Halloween prayer service” on 31 October, held inside the St. George cemetery chapel. There was fog, an open coffin, and even a touch of theatrical darkness — yet the atmosphere, he insists, was one of reflection rather than mockery.
During the short service, Korell wore his official clerical robes under a Dracula-style cape, used gentle lighting and music, and invited the roughly 50 participants to pray, sing hymns from the Gotteslob, and recite the Lord’s Prayer.
The goal, he said, was to reach people who normally have little or no contact with the Church.
“It actually worked,” Korell told local media. “Some faces I saw there I don’t even see at Christmas mass.”
Support and outrage — a divided reaction
While many attendees praised the service as innovative and moving, several churchgoers — reportedly three or four individuals — accused the parish of disrespecting the sacred space. Online, some commenters went further, calling the event “unworthy” or “occult”.
The parish of St. George responded publicly, posting a detailed statement and apology on social media.
In it, the church acknowledged that some of the reactions had crossed a line.
“Certain comments were perceived as hurtful or even threatening,” the statement read. “We regret that in filtering and blocking hate comments, we may have gone too far. As a synodal church, listening and dialogue are essential.”
Most negative posts have since been deleted.
Clergy admit communication mistakes
Freising’s senior priest, Dean Daniel Reichel, reflected that the choice of name — “Halloween service” — was perhaps misleading.
“It wasn’t a mass but a devotional gathering,” he told reporters. “We should have explained the concept better in advance.”
Korell himself emphasised that he had studied the Christian roots of All Hallows’ Eve and wanted to remind people of its connection to All Saints’ Day.
He insisted there was no parody or mockery involved:
“Yes, I wore a cape — but I wasn’t wearing fangs or makeup. It was a symbolic gesture, and I celebrated in full clerical dress underneath.”
The open coffin and its meaning
One of the more talked-about elements was the half-open coffin placed in the chapel. Korell explained that it was meant to represent resurrection rather than horror:
“In church art, we often see open coffins — it’s a sign that we need not fear death. The empty tomb stands for the resurrection of Christ.”
Even so, he said, he took every criticism seriously and was open to further discussion within the parish.
Other parishes saw no controversy
Interestingly, similar themed prayer services in nearby Moosburg have reportedly taken place without any complaints.
Reichel says that while he understands those who were offended, he was also encouraged by the number of people who supported the initiative — including the parish’s youth.
In fact, the altar servers of St. George parish said they found the event “well done and not offensive at all” — adding with a smile that they only wished there had been “a bit more fog.”
A modern dilemma: where faith meets creativity
The Freising episode highlights a broader question facing churches in Europe: how far can creativity go when trying to reconnect with an increasingly secular audience?
For some, Korell’s approach was a clever bridge between tradition and modernity; for others, it crossed a sacred line.
Either way, it got people talking — and perhaps, in its own unconventional way, that was exactly the point.
