Do Parents Become Gods When They Die?
Plenty of people demand proof that God exists, but I have never met anyone who demands proof that ancestral spirits exist. God belongs to religion, so questioning Him is fair game. Ancestors belong to filial piety, so the moment you question them, you become an ungrateful child.
Parents who, while alive, could not cure even their own illness or steer their children's futures as they wished — are we to believe that the instant they draw their last breath, they become beings who hold their descendants' jobs, marriages, health, and fortunes in their hands?
Death means losing the body, losing speech, losing the hands. If someone who has lost everything somehow gains even greater power, the burden of proof lies with those who believe it.
If dead ancestors really shaped the fate of their descendants, they could simply tip us off to a winning lottery number. If they can't even pick a single good stock, what blessing of wealth are they supposed to bestow?
People in countries that never perform ancestral rites (jesa) still get rich, live long, and raise their children well. And illness does not pass over a house just because its memorial table is lavish.
Go back just ten generations and you have more than a thousand ancestors. If ancestors from the father's side, the mother's side, and even the in-laws of in-laws — all from different families — each hand out blessings and curses to the same single descendant, whose will wins?
Don't demand from your dead parents a power they never had. Their lives were hard enough while they were alive.
Siblings become sworn enemies over the inheritance their parents left behind, then gather in one room on the memorial day to honor their parents' grace.
When we entrust our money, we check out the bank. When we choose a doctor, we verify their skill. Even when buying a single item, we dig through the reviews. Yet when it comes to ancestral rites — a ritual that even sparks divorces and family feuds — we ask nothing and simply bow first.
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Parents who, while alive, could not cure even their own illness or steer their children's futures as they wished — are we to believe that the instant they draw their last breath, they become beings who hold their descendants' jobs, marriages, health, and fortunes in their hands?
Death means losing the body, losing speech, losing the hands. If someone who has lost everything somehow gains even greater power, the burden of proof lies with those who believe it.
Don't Trouble the Powerless Dead
If dead ancestors really shaped the fate of their descendants, they could simply tip us off to a winning lottery number. If they can't even pick a single good stock, what blessing of wealth are they supposed to bestow?
People in countries that never perform ancestral rites (jesa) still get rich, live long, and raise their children well. And illness does not pass over a house just because its memorial table is lavish.
Go back just ten generations and you have more than a thousand ancestors. If ancestors from the father's side, the mother's side, and even the in-laws of in-laws — all from different families — each hand out blessings and curses to the same single descendant, whose will wins?
Don't demand from your dead parents a power they never had. Their lives were hard enough while they were alive.
Conclusion: A Curious Custom
Siblings become sworn enemies over the inheritance their parents left behind, then gather in one room on the memorial day to honor their parents' grace.
When we entrust our money, we check out the bank. When we choose a doctor, we verify their skill. Even when buying a single item, we dig through the reviews. Yet when it comes to ancestral rites — a ritual that even sparks divorces and family feuds — we ask nothing and simply bow first.
