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Chung Hyo Ye Essay Contest

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<strong>Chung</strong> <strong>Hyo</strong> <strong>Ye</strong> <strong>Essay</strong> <strong>Contest</strong><br />

Kate Falkenstien


American culture simply does not value the elderly. We treat them as a burden<br />

to be dealt with, not a treasure trove of wisdom or an honored part of an extended<br />

family. On a political level, we offer scant resources to support senior citizens and<br />

propose to cut even those when the Social Security program seems threatened or<br />

Medicaid seems to be a drain on the taxpayers. On a personal level, our respect is just<br />

as meager. Many Americans pride themselves on their ability to act as individuals who<br />

not only break free of their families but actively defy the way they were raised.<br />

Rebellion is a norm, almost considered a necessary rite of passage. To make real<br />

sacrifices for parents is to be tied down too much, to succumb to unfair pressures, our<br />

societal dialogue seems to scream.<br />

Coming from such an individualistic culture, I was truly impressed by the tales of<br />

filial devotion in <strong>Chung</strong> <strong>Hyo</strong> <strong>Ye</strong>. Far beyond merely providing a home for their aging<br />

parents or showing respect to elders in disagreements, the characters in the book often<br />

make life-changing decisions in order to help their parents. No sacrifice is too much.<br />

For example, Sim Chong gives her entire life to help her father see. Her blind father<br />

needs three hundred sacks of rice to donate to a temple to gain perfect vision, yet the<br />

family is too poor to provide it. Placing the needs of her father ahead of her own<br />

dreams, Sim Chong trades herself for the rice to sailors looking for a girl to sacrifice to<br />

the ocean at a crucial point in an upcoming voyage. Even then, however, as she faces<br />

her death, she considers her father’s feelings. She pretends to be moving in with a rich<br />

woman lest her father attempt to stop her sacrifice out of love for her. Hiding her own<br />

fear, she feigns excitement at the opportunities she will have with her new adopted


mother. Although she ultimately tells him the truth, she only does so because she can’t<br />

bear to lie to someone she loves so much. All her actions are centered around care for<br />

her father, not concern for her own well-being. At this point in the story, I assumed<br />

that someone would step in to save Sim Chong. After all, her mere willingness to give<br />

her life proved her devotion; I thought the story would prove its point without her<br />

actual death. But as I read on, I found that Sim Chong kept true to her promise, falling<br />

into the ocean as a sacrifice. For a moment, I was shocked at the simple tragedy of it,<br />

but I soon realized that my shock was merely a product of my upbringing and culture.<br />

I didn’t expect Sim Chong to follow through on her sacrifice, because in my gut I<br />

couldn’t imagine anyone giving up so much for the happiness of her father. The fact<br />

that she really does die, with no resurrection or benefit for her, drives home the point:<br />

we owe our parents everything for bringing us into the world and loving us as much as<br />

they do, and if necessary, we owe them the lives they gave us. Filial devotion isn’t just<br />

about proclamations of love and dedication – it’s about concrete actions that prove the<br />

sincerity of the words.<br />

Before I read <strong>Chung</strong> <strong>Hyo</strong> <strong>Ye</strong>, I thought of my obligations to my parents in terms<br />

of not treating them badly: not breaking my curfew, not snapping at them after a long<br />

day at school, not lying about my whereabouts, and so on. I was satisfied with a<br />

definition of respect and devotion that relied on negation, in which respecting my<br />

parents consisted of avoiding disrespect. Now I have realized that my relationship with<br />

my parents deserves a positive definition, in which filial devotion requires that I actively<br />

work to show my parents my love for them and provide them with what they need as


they grow older. I should strive to spend time with my parents doing things that they<br />

enjoy instead of considering it their privilege to participate in my favorite activities. I<br />

should talk to them and truly listen to their advice, recognizing that wisdom comes with<br />

age. And in part, I think I should show my devotion to my parents by entering contests<br />

like this one, where I can potentially win money to spend on college tuition so that I<br />

don’t need to ask them to radically change their lives to pay for my education. Thus,<br />

this contest allows me to demonstrate my filial devotion but it has also redefined the<br />

entire concept for me, forcing me to consider how my society treats its elders and<br />

whether I agree with those standards in my own relationship with my parents. I may<br />

never have the opportunity to die as a sacrifice for my father’s vision, but I do have the<br />

opportunity each and every day to build a stronger relationship with my mom and dad,<br />

to set an example for my peers, and to ease the burden that I am afraid I often place<br />

on my parents’ money and time. I may never be a martyr of filial devotion, but I can<br />

certainly let Chong Sim’s example inspire me and drive me to a more honorable way of<br />

life.

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