When Rituals Speak
Recently, I attended a Chinese funeral for a respected elder. Like many cultural rituals, it carried layers of symbolism, some of which I hadn’t fully understood until now.
At the service, mourners were given small envelopes containing a coin, a sweet, a tissue, and a red thread. Each item carried a meaning: the coin for safe passage, the sweet to bring life’s sweetness back after grief, the tissue for tears, and the red thread for protection. We burned incense and paper offerings, and bowed before the coffin - acts rooted in traditions of filial piety, remembrance, and the honouring of ancestors.
As someone who isn’t religious, I hesitated for a moment. My parents, as Christians, chose not to take part in the incense offering, and I understood why. For them, it crosses into a religious practice that doesn’t align with their beliefs. But for me, I chose to offer the incense - not as worship, but as a gesture of respect. It felt right to honour the elder in the way they, their community and family would have wanted. In that moment, it was about love, not doctrine.
As the coffin is lowered into the ground, we all turn our backs - a powerful gesture filled with symbolic protection, emotional separation, and spiritual respect. It’s a form of energetic boundary setting, showing you respect the spirit’s departure but you will not follow it. It also allows the departed dignity in their final descent. In Chinese ceremony, this act of turning our backs is not an act of disrespect, but actually an act of sacred respect.
Rituals, I’ve come to realise, are deeply important. They help us process emotions that are too big for words, giving shape to grief, love, and remembrance. Whether or not we share the same beliefs behind them, rituals provide a sense of continuity - a way of connecting us to generations before and after, reminding us that we are part of something larger than our own individual lives.
What struck me most, though, wasn’t only the rituals. It was the gathering itself. Funerals, weddings, births - these milestone moments seem to be the only times we gather as an extended family anymore. Everyday life sweeps us along: work, routines, responsibilities. Before we know it, years slip by without seeing one another.
And yet, when we do meet again, there’s this strange familiarity. With some relatives, it feels as though no time has passed at all. We laugh, share stories, and slip back into that ease of kinship that distance can’t erase. It’s a bittersweet reminder of how important family connection really is.
For me, this experience has sparked a desire to nurture stronger ties with my extended family. It’s not just for me - it’s for my children, too. I want them to grow up knowing who their family are, to feel that sense of belonging and shared history. And perhaps the universe is giving me a nudge, because I discovered that one of my cousins has recently moved to a small town just ten minutes away from me. Suddenly, distance is no longer an excuse.
In the end, rituals like incense and paper offerings are about remembering, honouring, and staying connected - not just to those who have passed, but to the living who share our lineage.
