My discussion with a Christian about ancestor worship led to him asking a very thought-provoking question: “Do you think that you, yourself, are worthy of being worshipped? That if you had kids and/or grandchildren that they should worship you?”  At first, I just smiled and shook my head, because I could see immediately where the disconnect we were having was: as a Christian, he has a very different concept of “worship” than we do.  But, as I thought about the question, I had a reaction I doubt he was expecting: I was moved to tears at the beauty of it.

I had never really thought before about the fact that we would be part of the ancestors that are honored just as we honor them now.  The thought that we might still be able to watch out for our children and our children’s children, and guide them, and that they would remember us, honor us, and turn to us when they have problems is very touching.  I described this to my wife, and she was misty-eyed, too.  Driving our son home from school, I told him that I loved him, and that I would always love him, even after I’m gone.  Yes, it was a very moving thought, indeed.

We do worship our ancestors, but I not in the same sense that Christians worship.  We relate to our dead relatives pretty much the same way we do to our live ones: with respect and familial love.  My grandmother is ninety years old.  We go out of our way to visit her, spend time with her, and honor her as the matriarch of my family.  We relate to our Gods the same way, too.  We invite them into our lives, praise and honor them, offer them gifts of gratitude and caring, and seek their advice and wisdom and assistance. I can think of no nobler way to live.