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For all the saints who
from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith
before the world confessed,
Thy name, O Jesus, be
forever blest.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou wast their Rock,
their Fortress, and their Might;
Thou, Lord, their
Captain in the well-fought fight;
Thou, in the darkness
drear, their one true Light.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
[verses 1 & 2 from “For All the Saints” by William W.
How (1823-1897)]
It is good to remember those who have gone before us.
Grandfather, known to us primarily as “Akong,” very soon
would have been 100 years old had he survived to this day. Even though I didn’t know him very well, I
miss him and wish I could have spent more time with him.
The experience my sister Ruthie & I had was a common one
for immigrant families: our parents had moved themselves thousands of miles away from their
country of origin, and due to the high cost of travel, we only rarely had
opportunity to see our grandparents in person.
Communication by phone then was also prohibitively expensive, & such
technology like video-conferencing or even simple email was either nonexistent
or unavailable to us. Even if we did
have today’s technological means for communication, my sister and I faced a
serious language barrier; my own Taiwanese & Chinese speaking abilities at
that time were basically zero. The
obstacles to building family relationships were so great, I used to lament that
if I happened to walk past the grave of a great-grandparent, I probably
wouldn’t even know it.
As such, my own first-hand memories of Akong are positive
but scarce. I remember his caring for
Grandmother/Ama, his pushing her around in her wheelchair or bringing her
things she needed during our few visits across the Pacific. I remember that he could speak to me in
simple English, & that he spoke kindly of me to those we met. I remember taking trips with him to the
morning market & the park nearby, & that he wasn’t afraid to take shots
at the basketball hoop with the younger crowd in Kaohsiung.
I remember the seriousness with which he took the loss of his wife of 50
years. I remember how he looked
physically disturbed when there was strife within the family. Selfishly, I remember that he would give me red
envelopes when we visited. Gratefully, I
remember that even after his passing, he left money that would help pay for my
medical education.
Remembering one’s ancestors has been on my mind lately, not
only because of the upcoming memorial service for Akong, but also surprisingly because
of a movie I recently saw with my 11 year old son Jadon: “Coco,” about a Mexican
boy who tries to pursue his dream of a musical career while dealing with a
complicated family history going back several generations. I really enjoyed the movie for its heartwarming
storyline, & was even moved to tears at its depiction of the strong desire
for family to love one another and to be remembered in love.
The movie centers on the Mexican custom of “The Day of the
Dead” (Día de los muertos), a folk
adaptation to the church tradition of All Saints’ Day. During this time, elaborate altars (ofrendas) are constructed to commemorate
relatives who have passed away, & these are adorned with candles, flowers,
and photographs, along with the dead relatives’ favorite food or drink. The belief is that these altars &
practices are important in the journeys and even existence of the relatives in
the afterlife. I didn’t want to be a
killjoy after such a delightful movie, but as we left the theater I told Jadon
that I had no illusions of being remembered by my own great-grandkids or
afterward, but that I would like him & his sister Evangelina & perhaps
their kids (my grandkids, in case I get any!) to remember me both for the good
I’ve done (for them to follow), and for the evil I’ve done (for them to avoid
and be warned by). I assured him that he
didn’t need to worry if I’m forgotten, because our eternal Maker will always
remember His children. I also let Jadon
know that he didn’t need to try to help me along in my spiritual journey after
I’ve died, because Jesus already accomplished everything I need through His
death & resurrection.
It was no surprise to learn that “Coco” was a box office hit
in Mexico, but it was a surprise to me that it fared amazingly well not only in
the United States but also in China of all places! As I thought it through, it made sense, with
all the parallels between the Mexican custom of The Day of the Dead and
traditional Taoist/Buddhist/Confucian ancestor worship. Hadn’t I seen countless altars in Taiwanese
homes dedicated to the worship of a past relative, complete with incense,
photos, as well as offerings of food & drink? As I looked into the practice more deeply, it
turns out that ancestor veneration is quite widely practiced: besides the
folk-Catholic customs of Mexico and the Taoist/Buddhist/Confucian customs of
Taiwan, many native religions spanning from Africa to the Americas to the
Shintoism of Japan also practice ancestor worship/veneration. To be remembered and cared for even after
death turns out to be a surprisingly strong and shared human longing.
Of course, as Christians we worship our Creator alone, and
we reject the need to worship anyone else.
As Christians we entrust the care of those who have died to the capable
and loving hands of that same Creator alone, and we reject any fear that they
will be harmed if we forget them. As
Christians we entrust the care of our own lives to our wise and powerful God
alone, and we reject any fear of reprisals if we mistreat or forget our
ancestors.
All the same, as we worship and trust our Creator alone, we
can give thanks to Him as we remember loved ones such as Akong (Philippians
1:3). In fact, in a strange way it is
precisely because of God’s faithfulness working through Akong that I can give
thanks for both of them: in spite of the fact that I have few firsthand
memories of Akong, by all accounts I know that he accepted God’s offer of grace
in Jesus Christ, and tried his best to pass along that grace to the generations
that followed him. In a land where there
are meagerly few Christ-followers at all (generous statistics for Taiwan put
the figure at 4.5% Christian, split evenly between Protestants and Catholics),
passing along this torch was no easy task, yet each of our families as
descendants of Akong (& Ama) continue to seek to walk with God in spite of
our very real brokenness.
Akong, poverty stricken as a child, raised his own family to
know their spiritual poverty without God.
Akong, an evangelist early in his marriage in a remote mountain church,
shared the riches of the Gospel with his own family. Akong, a schoolteacher and guidance director,
taught & directed his own family in God’s ways. Akong, a community and church servant-leader,
served and led his own family to serve and worship God.
Of course I realize that with memorial services (as with funerals),
people tend to remember only positive things about one’s life. I do not doubt that Akong had his own faults
and weaknesses, perhaps even glaring ones, as we all do. I wouldn’t be devastated if there one day
were some revelation of some horrible part of his life or character. He was human, & a sinner at that. Yet in the area of life which mattered most
for eternity, he trusted God’s goodness and passed it along to his kin. And because of God’s goodness working through
Akong, I’ll have plenty of time to get to know him better than I could ever
imagine.
O blest communion,
fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle,
they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in
Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
And when the strife is
fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the
distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave
again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
[verses 3 & 4
from “For All the Saints” by William W. How (1823-1897)]
