Perspective: Becoming an Ancestor

Mike Denney, MD, PhD

Anthropologists and mythologists have verified that throughout the world the practice of worshiping and honoring ancestors began at the dawn of history and continues to the present day. Spiritual traditions of indigenous Americans, for example, acknowledge not only a distant, ethereal soul that after death goes to a spirit land, but also a sensual and local soul by which the ancestor remains actively involved in the worldly well-being of the tribe. It is considered perfectly natural for people, both individually and collectively, to actively call upon the ancestors for advice and guidance regarding important decisions, rituals or celebrations. In grave decisions such as going to war or protecting the harvest, it would be unthinkable for the elders and chiefs to proceed without first consulting the ancestors.

Throughout Africa there is a remarkably uniform spiritual framework in which ancestors remain functionally involved in the world of the living and are imbued with mystical powers and authority. The emphasis is not upon how the dead go on in the afterlife but upon how they continue to affect the land of the living. Thus, the ancestors not only assume the role of advisors to individuals in their life choices, but in a larger context they also are assigned a legal and political status within the tribe or nation.

In China, portraits of the deceased, painted posthumously, are hung as sacred heirlooms in family temples. The sacred practice of Feng Shui is sometimes used to choose the site of the grave so that the ancestor can properly tend to the descendents. In the home, ancestral tablets, which are made of slips of wood and inscribed with gilded characters, are hung in shrines.

In Western civilization, ancestral worship came to be expressed through the demi-gods of Egypt and the anthropomorphic Greek and Roman gods and goddesses. Through the ages, people have prayed for guidance from their ancestors Abraham, Moses, Mohammed, Jesus and Mary. In modern times, honoring the ancestors is manifested by the celebration of memorial days, funeral ceremonies, placing flowers on the graves of loved ones, displaying old photographs, wearing bequeathed jewelry, and telling stories of the kindly deeds of grandparents who have since passed away.

Aside from these rituals, however, we usually maintain an objective and materialistic attitude and do not ordinarily think of our personal ancestors as directly participating in the events of our everyday lives. Yet, even when we do not actively seek their immediate advice, through the direct manifestations of our DNA, our memories of their teachings, and the passions in the deepest recesses of our hearts and souls, our ancestors, all of them, continue to profoundly influence the lives of those of us who linger still in the land of the living.

As in this issue of San Francisco Medicine, with its theme of health care for the elderly, as we objectively consider the care of those who suffer from Alzheimers disease, strokes, or abuse, who live in nursing facilities, and who face death through critical illness or long-term disease, perhaps an awareness of this notion of honoring the ancestors could help to guide us. Instead of just an objective and scientific approach to the infirmities of old age and the vicissitudes of dying, perhaps including the ancient spiritual practice would be of value.

In an article in this issue, the value of such a spiritual approach is suggested by Christine Okon as she describes the leaving a legacy program, in which those with lethal illnesses are encouraged to tell their life stories and to leave lasting messages as guidance and good wishes to their descendents. In this way, those who are ill, aging and infirm can view their transition as not merely dying but as the sacred task of joining those who have gone before them-of becoming an ancestor.

And, so it can be for healers. If, as caregivers who tend to the healthcare of our elders, we begin to include this ancestral dimension in our work, we may soon begin to notice that when using our usual objective approach we are caught in a sort of self-referential paradox-we do not include our subjective selves within that of which we speak or act. On the other hand, as we proceed more spiritually we are moved to address the most dreaded and pervasive aspects of old age-separation, isolation and loneliness. Thus, within a sacred context we soon experience a kind of deep quantum empathy-the observer becomes one with that which is observed. We realize that we are all becoming ancestors.