Hungry Ghost Festival: Keep the spirit alive

Patrick HO

For thousands of years we Chinese have believed there is one month in the lunar year during which the spiritual world coexists with the real world. That month, the seventh in our calendar, brings the Yue Lan, or the Hungry Ghost Festival, which came to its close last weekend.

Tradition has it - and indeed many still fervently believe - that during Yue Lan the spirits of our dearly departed are set free to roam the Earth and mingle among us mortals.

Which is why, in some areas of Hong Kong, we still see small roadside fires where paper money and other offerings are burned to appease these restless souls.

The Yue Lan festival is a time for respect, reverence and remembrance: a time when we, who have been taught from childhood to honour our ancestors, are more conscious of their absence and therefore more disposed to welcome their brief, if tenuous, return. Its nearest equivalent in the Christian calendar is Halloween, or All Hallows' Eve, the night before All Saints Day on November 1. But the Yue Lan festival - unlike Halloween - has never descended to levity, party games or fancy dress, but has protected its sacrosanct origins and preserved its time-honoured traditions.

There are many in Hong Kong who still stage elaborate processions and rituals to celebrate this festival, believing that the dead return to be among the living not just to be fed but to be entertained, too. Performances of traditional Chinese opera are staple ingredients. It has also long been the practice for local benefactors to win merit and enhance their status in the community by hosting feasts as offerings to the hungry ghosts. The cooked rice served at these repasts is later distributed to the Four Seas, a euphemism for anyone who may wish to partake. Just as Christians believe that the Holy Eucharist embodies the body of Christ, so followers of our ancient Chinese traditions believe that the rice doled out is imbued with sacramental powers that endow recipients with good health and longevity. It is not uncommon, therefore, to see large numbers of hopeful recipients gathering to receive these dispensations.

The elderly and infirm are particularly conspicuous among them, for they have kept their faith intact longer than others. They are naturally placed at risk in crowded situations that frequently arise from the fervour of religious occasions. We in Hong Kong are fortunate to have been spared the kind of crush and occasional stampede that have marred similar festivities elsewhere.

Last week an elderly woman died from injuries received while awaiting distribution of Yue Lan rice in Tsim Sha Tsui. This was a sad and regrettable accident, but should it be - as some have contended - sufficient reason to ban a practice that has been peacefully, harmlessly and harmoniously observed throughout our history? Or should we, rather, come up with measures that will safely permit the continued observance of a festival that still means so much to so many?

We have confronted similar challenges before, and have found solutions that avoid the necessity of abolishing key elements of our precious cultural heritage. For many years, following the collapse of one of the towers at our Cheung Chau bun festival, we allowed festivities to continue without the scramble up the towers.

Then, earlier this year, we introduced a compromise that permitted us to revive the climax in a new and ingenious way.

By doing so, we demonstrated it is possible to adapt even our most venerated traditions. I am confident we can do the same for Yue Lan. Our short-term aim of improving rice distribution is to ensure the safety of the elderly; our long-term aim is to revive the spirit of respect for the elderly, which is the central theme upheld by the festival.