Friday Sabbath: Reverence of the Ancestors

With Mister John still on my mind, I'm thinking of every little thing he said... all the ways in which he lived his life... certain faces that ought to be immortalized in marble so I never forget. I think I did something similar when my grandmother died.

This mourning process brings to my mind societies that worship their dead ancestors. Seems like the most natural step to me for some of these groups... China, Polynesia, Malaysia, tropical Africa, and certain tribes even of North America possessed elements of ancestor reverence. I find myself traveling back in time when we had no cameras, no videos, none of our currently sophisticated ways to record a person just as he or she was in life. Perhaps this method of ancestral worship helped to keep those people "alive" in a spiritual sense... belief in an immortal part of humans surely helps, but I can see why these souls are so elevated though mere mortals...

...they know something we don't.

In most of these societies involved with ancestral reverence, two basic topics inform their rituals and beliefs: 1) Those that "have gone before us" into that realm we can never truly know until we get there, they perpetuate a beneficent interest in the events of our lives. 2)Also, an uneasiness and fear of the dead informs practices to placate the dead or dispense of the emotions of the living.

I've heard of some practices in which the dead ancestors essentially enhance the power of the living tribesmen. These tribes invoke the power of their ancestors to enforce their status among their group. There are other traditions in which it is believed that the dearly departed join a higher society of Fate that intervene on your behalf if you perform the correct ritual (the Pueblo native's rain dances, for example, are an appeal to the gds/ancestors to water their crops). One can also reach back to the highly observant Egyptians who meticulously wrap their dead and preserve their earthly possessions so that the dead can take those treasures with them into the afterlife. They also believed that the soul of the dead person could continue to "live" in the body if it is well preserved.

One most intriguing fictional society, that sticks out in my brain anyway, is the Fremen of Frank Herbert's DUNE. After the protagonist, Paul, settles a tribal dispute by killing a member of the group, he sheds a tear. The Fremen gawk and whisper to one another, "Look! He gives water to the dead!" Here is a group of people who observe their grief for the departed within the constraints of survival. The Fremen live on a desert planet where even the water the human body perspires is collected into a "stillsuit" so that it can be consumed later. How we all live most likely informs our opinions of viewing the dead... looking at other "real" desert societies, the dead is cast aside or made of use to sustain the living. Survival is key, so belief backs up ideas such as their souls being rewarded for how they died in Paradise or distinctly believing the soul, and all characteristics therein, instantly retreat the body upon death making the physical remains irrelevant to the passing spirit.

This is not a sophisticated study but my humble gatherings based on what I've read...

In my case, I wear the necklace he gave me for a birthday present like rosary beads. I can't get out of my head the words he said or the faces he made. I sound like the Psalms in my brain... humming and repeating the phrases and tones Mister John used most frequently. I elevate the way that he tried so hard not to "hate" anything or anyone (as though it were a law of Moses)... that if there wasn't something good to be found it was none of his business anyway. I admire the way he wouldn't wait to live-- whether someone was willing to go with him or not, he took his trips, saw the sights, ate in the places that prepared food he most enjoyed... he knew how to live in spite of his disappointments.

This some "religious" reaction in me forces me to wonder if this is how the Bible was written. The Hebrews are known for the honoring of their ancestors (Abraham this, Abraham that), so, I have to wonder if, as enough great people passed on, the living were hoping to preserve their wisdom in the written word.

Mister John believed in me, and his words from a card I found recently (after I was accepted to W&M) have become my mantra:

Congratulations! You sounded so surprised when you left the message. I WASN'T. I knew you would get in. Well done. John X

As I embark on challenges, such as my new job at another yoga studio in Newport News, I think of his words, and it keeps me on target. The power, I understand, comes from my belief in the words and my trust in the man who said them. I don't actually believe that I invoke the power of Mister John to help me get through class...

...though I certainly hope that, if his soul is wondering around somehow and has interests in the affairs of the living, I hope he knows he is loved and appreciated still.

I preserve him the only way I know how. He is to be buried shortly, from what I've been told. I believe that what made him him is no longer in that container, but I'd still feel a little better knowing that the container of John Geoffrey Marshall was honorably laid to rest.

My friend was kind enough to send me her only picture of him... a healthier Mister John freshly delivered to America to grace our lives...

Nice to see the memory of him in a home in which we spent many holidays, birthdays, and days of no consequence whatsoever.