Faith Works 10-31-2025
Jeff Gill
It's the great mass cultural experience, Charlie Brown
___
Almost sixty years ago, for nearly three generations, you could at the end of October assume a set of cultural references shared by everyone.
Not religion or church-going, not even football in Ohio or basketball in Indiana.
"It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" aired in 1966, and became a yearly tradition (first on CBS, later ABC), much anticipated in days before VHS tape or digital media. If you missed it, that was it for the year, and few missed it.
What's hard to believe is that the whole program, credits included, is just twenty-five minutes long. Within that tight time frame, you have Lucy pulling away the football as Charlie Brown tries to kick it. There's Linus explaining to Sally the peculiar theology of the Great Pumpkin, rooted in sincerity as well as the pumpkin patch. We get trick-or-treating, and "I got a rock" not once, but three times. And the idea of a Hallowe'en party with bobbing for apples and kids costumes, not the first time anyone had seen one, but possibly an origin point for the explosion of such events into the festivals we see today from rec centers to High Streets.
And there is the incredible sequence woven in of Snoopy, the World War I fighting ace, shot down by the Red Baron, then making his way behind enemy lines, mournful train whistles in the distance, past ruined farmsteads and French signposts (all geographically accurate at Schulz's insistence) until our hero makes his way to… you know. That "smash cut" is still a vital memory of childhood for me, still delightfully jarring today.
I suspect most of you are remembering each of these scenes with me, in sight and sound, nodding along. Even the subtler elements, such as the usually flat, two-dimensional scenes shifting in Snoopy's fantasy (it is a fantasy, right?) to perspectives and deep background, blending into painted skies which evoke mixed memories with so many autumnal sunsets: it's all quite real to most of us.
We don't have this story, though, as a mass cultural experience anymore. That lament went up first with "A Charlie Brown Christmas" leaving public airwaves, and we've discussed the subject before. From holiday animated specials to MASH finales, the idea of anything being a common touchstone for over 50% of all of us is fading into the rear-view mirror. Many of us have seen "Great Pumpkin," but not everyone, and certainly not all children.
As much as the show is beloved for the reasons I shared above, what makes me want to keep putting this complicated yet simple story in front of children (of all ages) is the ending. The credits include a final closing sequence, but the ending to me is with Lucy and Linus.
Lucy, cranky, mischievous, cantankerous Lucy, wakes up at 4 am (do not ask where their parents are, that's a different universe anyhow), checks her blockhead brother's bed, and finds it empty. She makes a face, dons coat and scarf and hat, heading for the pumpkin patch. She finds the dozing Linus, shivering in the pre-dawn cold; sister walks brother back to the house still mostly asleep, and to his bed. She takes off his shoes, and covers him up. She still looks irritated, but she does all this, then back to bed herself.
Love. Cranky love, but it's still love. Not announced with trumpets or phalanxes of violins, just a simple quiet scene of caring, compassion, and love.
That's what Hallowe'en is all about, Charlie Brown. May you have a delightful one, whatever you do to mark the day.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he gets a chill every year when he hears that train whistle on Snoopy's journey. Tell him where you find love shown unexpectedly at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads or Bluesky.
Jeff Gill
It's the great mass cultural experience, Charlie Brown
___
Almost sixty years ago, for nearly three generations, you could at the end of October assume a set of cultural references shared by everyone.
Not religion or church-going, not even football in Ohio or basketball in Indiana.
"It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" aired in 1966, and became a yearly tradition (first on CBS, later ABC), much anticipated in days before VHS tape or digital media. If you missed it, that was it for the year, and few missed it.
What's hard to believe is that the whole program, credits included, is just twenty-five minutes long. Within that tight time frame, you have Lucy pulling away the football as Charlie Brown tries to kick it. There's Linus explaining to Sally the peculiar theology of the Great Pumpkin, rooted in sincerity as well as the pumpkin patch. We get trick-or-treating, and "I got a rock" not once, but three times. And the idea of a Hallowe'en party with bobbing for apples and kids costumes, not the first time anyone had seen one, but possibly an origin point for the explosion of such events into the festivals we see today from rec centers to High Streets.
And there is the incredible sequence woven in of Snoopy, the World War I fighting ace, shot down by the Red Baron, then making his way behind enemy lines, mournful train whistles in the distance, past ruined farmsteads and French signposts (all geographically accurate at Schulz's insistence) until our hero makes his way to… you know. That "smash cut" is still a vital memory of childhood for me, still delightfully jarring today.
I suspect most of you are remembering each of these scenes with me, in sight and sound, nodding along. Even the subtler elements, such as the usually flat, two-dimensional scenes shifting in Snoopy's fantasy (it is a fantasy, right?) to perspectives and deep background, blending into painted skies which evoke mixed memories with so many autumnal sunsets: it's all quite real to most of us.
We don't have this story, though, as a mass cultural experience anymore. That lament went up first with "A Charlie Brown Christmas" leaving public airwaves, and we've discussed the subject before. From holiday animated specials to MASH finales, the idea of anything being a common touchstone for over 50% of all of us is fading into the rear-view mirror. Many of us have seen "Great Pumpkin," but not everyone, and certainly not all children.
As much as the show is beloved for the reasons I shared above, what makes me want to keep putting this complicated yet simple story in front of children (of all ages) is the ending. The credits include a final closing sequence, but the ending to me is with Lucy and Linus.
Lucy, cranky, mischievous, cantankerous Lucy, wakes up at 4 am (do not ask where their parents are, that's a different universe anyhow), checks her blockhead brother's bed, and finds it empty. She makes a face, dons coat and scarf and hat, heading for the pumpkin patch. She finds the dozing Linus, shivering in the pre-dawn cold; sister walks brother back to the house still mostly asleep, and to his bed. She takes off his shoes, and covers him up. She still looks irritated, but she does all this, then back to bed herself.
Love. Cranky love, but it's still love. Not announced with trumpets or phalanxes of violins, just a simple quiet scene of caring, compassion, and love.
That's what Hallowe'en is all about, Charlie Brown. May you have a delightful one, whatever you do to mark the day.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he gets a chill every year when he hears that train whistle on Snoopy's journey. Tell him where you find love shown unexpectedly at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads or Bluesky.
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