From the Outside Invited In:Chinese American Customs of Death and Bereavement

By Tom Smith, Ph.D.

 

Growing up in a Spanish family on my mother’s side, the death and funeral rites I am most familiar with are those of Mediterranean Catholicism. They are fairly straightforward and simple, consisting of a wake or vigil the evening before the funeral where the Rosary is customarily recited and the deceased is eulogized. The next day a Requiem Mass is celebrated followed by a trip to the cemetery. Then, we go home, eat and talk.

Later in life, having become acquainted over a period of many years with Wong Wing-On, his father, mother and sister, his extended family, the family associations, tongs and martial arts studios, I learned first hand about Chinese culture, participating in numerous family and civic celebrations in San Francisco and the Sacramento Valley.

Many times I watched solemnly as the Green Street Mortuary Band, following a Buddhist or sometimes Christian ceremony, playing the most reverent music and familiar hymns, marched down Stockton then Grant Streets, followed by a hearse and then a limousine with the larger than life, framed photo of the deceased erected in the back seat, bedecked with garlands of flowers, “heaven money” flying and the community, bereaved, paying respect with silence and attention as the entourage passed. This, usually respected leader is the subject of filial piety (hsiao or xiao), honor to the father and father figures, one of the great Confucian virtues.

Chinese Americans are the largest Asian American ethnic subgroup in the United States and since the 1950s have doubled each decade. Most reside in California and many have been here for generations. Many Chinese attitudes and practices surrounding death, even of those born and raised in the United States, are rooted in the centrality of the family hierarchy, Confucianism, Buddhism, Taoism and Christianity. Chinese religions, or at least, spirituality are polytheistic and a mixture of local folklore, superstition, ancestor worship and magical belief systems.

In the town of Marysville in the Northern Sacramento Valley, there is a Taoist temple that sits just below a levee along the Feather River. It is Temple Bok Kai, the oldest Chinese Taoist temple in the United States. It was constructed in 1880 by Chinese immigrants. To this day, Chinese from all over California and some beyond, come once a year to the Temple for “Bomb Day”, a festival of fireworks and food, to honor and to make lavish offerings to Bok Kai, the water god that resides in the temple with his retinue that accompany him in the divine office in heaven, all protecting the community from flooding of the river. The offerings of whole roast pig, boiled chicken, whiskey, tea, fruit, candles, incense and heaven money are in petition and supplication to Bok Kai or in gratitude for good fortune. Central to the temple ceremony is to “throw the sticks” (casting the I Ching) to be interpreted by Mr. Kim, the temple priest, to find out what their luck will be for the coming year. Later, there is gambling, eating, games, storytelling, Chinese Opera and general socializing. It is not unusual for many of the people to also be practicing Buddhists or Christians. There seemed to be no difficulty reconciling the different beliefs. Several hundred people and it was just like a big happy family. It is the group and not so much the individual that is important.

When Wing-On’s parents were still alive and I would come and visit, I would first light incense and bow three times to the photos of his deceased relatives and the family gods. Then, I would take a small cup of tea in both hands and bring it to his father and then greet his mother. After this honoring of relatives, gods and parents or demonstration of filial piety, I could then go and spend time with my friend.

As the years rolled by, Wing-On’s parents aged and died. His mom died of lung cancer and his dad died of Huntington’s disease. His mom died first and I was a pallbearer at her funeral. Family gathered at the funeral home and there was a short service led by a Presbyterian minister. There were wreaths with ribbons that had short writings in Chinese commemorating her and who sent the wreath. Everyone was given little candies to be eaten immediately to sweeten the sorrow and a small white envelope with a few coins in it to spend afterwards on something sweet to keep bad luck away. We carried the casket out to the hearse and then drove to their home. While parked out front, Wing-On went inside, threw out some of her old clothes, then a black wreath came sailing out the window, followed by a string of firecrackers. He came down the stairs and lit an even longer strand of firecrackers. His mom was going to the cemetery and it was important that her spirit not hang around the house. So, out went the clothes, the wreath and off went the firecrackers to scare any evil spirits away. After the cemetery, we all ate together at a banquet in a restaurant on Grant Street. I was the only Caucasian there and everybody wanted to know who the “white guy” was.

Not long after, Wing-On’s dad began to deteriorate and being a good son, obedient and solicitous, conforming to Confucian values, he cared for his father unto his death at home. He was grief stricken. His dad’s death seemed to hurt him even more than his mother. I stayed near him for the next few days to give him my unwavering support and to honor his father as I practiced filial piety. The funeral was a little different this time. There were the many wreaths with the commemorative calligraphy, but his father was laid out with flags of his province and family association layered over his body to keep him warm in the next world. The same Presbyterian minister was there, but this time after the brief service, they drew a curtain around his dad’s casket and Wing-On broke out into the most sorrowful wailing that I have ever heard. He was inconsolable. The customary candies and white envelopes with coins were handed out and again, being a pallbearer, we carried the casket out to the car, went by the house, exploded firecrackers and went to the cemetery, with heaven money flying out the window of the limo the whole way. There his dad was laid to rest next to his wife, her grave now covered with a huge granite slab. Afterwards, we went to a restaurant in Chinatown. This time some of the people recognized the only “white guy” and asked how I was.

Grief and bereavement had only just begun.

In the Western tradition, after the usually private funeral and customary socializing, it is expected that the survivors “let go” and get on with their life. It is appropriate to express grief for good mental health outcomes, albeit, for a limited time.

As described above, in Chinese culture grief and bereavement are not necessarily private or time limited. In ancient China mourning was seven years, now it is about 49 to 90 days. Families are expected to dress conservatively, and on the third day after the funeral to return to the gravesite to burn heaven money and offer food. This happens again at certain intervals, often the 25th, 35th and 49th day after the death.

If funeral rites and rituals are not done properly, feng shui not observed in the placement of the grave, or proper respect and offerings not made at the appropriate times after the funeral, the spirit of the deceased, who resides in another world, will return as a hungry ghost to plague the living members of the family. Proper funerals for parents are the last act of filial piety by the children, especially the eldest son.

Death is difficult for all people, but in Chinese culture it is considered taboo and very bad luck. that is why everything has to be done just right. But when elderly people die, there is knowledge that they have lived a long life and so there is some semblance of joy. However, when a child dies, it is not consistent with the natural order of life: “White hair does not send dark hair away”. It is shameful when a child dies and parents will sometimes condemn themselves, thinking that they have done something very, very bad and may not even attend the funeral.

Not all Chinese families follow these rituals precisely. Wing-On was from a very traditional Chinese family that had lots of specific ways of doing things. There is a wide variation in the extent to which funeral practices are carried out that depend on level of acculturation, religious orientation and place of birth. Nevertheless, these rituals serve as a way to grieve and cope in a private way that is not shared by outsiders. Chinese typically do not turn to support or bereavement groups. In Chinese culture, the grieving process has more to do with showing respect to the deceased and any outward display of emotion is limited to the immediate family.

In conclusion, it is important for service providers to understand that there is tremendous diversity in Chinese American communities, ranging from Christianity, Buddhism, Taoism, ethnicity (there are over 32 different ethnic groups in China), superstitions and folklore. One must build the relationship, be wary of assumptions and remember that there is no one formula for bereavement interventions.

References

Marsella, A.J., DeVos, G., Hsu, F.L.K. (Eds.) (1985). Culture and Self: Asian and Western Perspectives. New York, NY: Tavistock Publications.

Temple Bok Kai Festival:http://www.bokkaifestival.com/index.php

Wu, Yi (1986). Chinese Philosophical Terms. Lanham, MD: University Press of America, Inc.

Yick, A.G. and Gupta, R. (2002). “Chinese cultural dimensions of death, dying and bereavement: focus group findings.” Journal of Cultural Diversity, Summer.