Vu-Lan - Absolution for Wandering Souls

Today was one of four major lunar holidays in Vietnam. All month long, Buddhist Vietnamese have performed rituals for the sake of the ghosts from the underworld that have been set free to roam the land of the living. Through these rituals, the ghosts receive gifts like food and burned offerings, and, if the circumstances permit, are absolved from suffering for sins committed during life.

Praying at Chùa Vĩnh Nghiêm

On the first day, when the moon is new, Vietnamese families flock to temples and pray, and set copious amounts of food on shrines to feed the hungry spirits of their ancestors. They burn incense and paper representations of wealth that bring prosperity to the dead. Interesting note, it seems the paper "money" commonly burned here is the US $100 bill. The month closes with similar offerings, as the people bid farewell to the ghosts returning to the underworld.

When the moon is full during the month of roaming souls, this day is called Vu-lan, the period when spirits can receive absolution. The observance comes from a Buddhist directive to liberate deceased ancestors from suffering caused by bad karma during life. The day is also called Tết Trung Nguyên, or day of wandering souls. On this day, which was today, the lost and unforgiven spirits wander the streets in full force. They are exceptionally hungry, because they have no families of their own who would feed them.

To appease these wild spirits, people pray, both in temples and at home. At home, they set up shrines to their ancestors, according to Vietnam's Wiki page. On these shrines people place salt, gold, and paper representations of real items. These paper replicas include clothing, appliances, electronics, vehicles...I've heard even paper housekeepers are up for the offerings. These items, once reduced to ashes, bestow prosperity and comfort on the deceased.

Offerings for wandering hungry ghosts

While I didn't run across any devotionals for family ancestors today, I did come across curbside makeshift shrines that people made to offer hospitality for lonely, hungry ghosts that have no family of their own to feed them. As dusk approaches, the living place food offerings on the streets for the spirits of the dead to eat their fill. The people slip indoors after darkness falls to avoid running into any hungry ghosts. Woe be to those who neglect to feed these angry spirits. When ghosts go unfed, they go unpardoned, and the angry ghosts drag the spirits of the living down to the underworld out of spite.

We started the day at Chùa Vĩnh Nghiêm, a temple with a seven story pagoda, which is situated at the north end of our neighborhood. Traffic in front of the temple crawled to a halt as taxis dropped off worshippers, and dozens of scooters crowded the gate, inching their ways between pedestrians and around buses. In the courtyard, people burned bundles of incense and the smoke clung to the air. At the top of the stairs in front of the temple, a man sold sparrows from a wood and wire crate, which are released for good luck. Inside, the altars practically spilled over with food and money offerings. Pink lotus blossoms, with petals folded over to present the golden seed cup within, adorned altars and memorials.

Later on, I roamed around the Chợ Lớn section of Saigon, to compare Vietnam's Day of Wandering Souls to the Hungry Ghost Festival of China. I was in Hong Kong during the Hungry Ghost Festival in 2009. It was awesome. The night air had more incense than LA has smog. All night long, people burned paper money and paper gold ingots by the sackful. While the adults largely stayed indoors in reverence of the tradition, the younger generations wandered about the city excitedly, questing after hungry ghosts, elusive temples, and dramatic burn-piles. On one of the steep streets near my house, a green dumpster blazed with a fire that licked the sky and cast strange shadows on the city street. It was an unforgettable spectacle.

In Chợ Lớn tonight, the scene was much more laid back. Hardly more than a few visitors came to the temple to the east of Chợ Bình Tây, which is the district's iconic market and which also was largely abandoned and closed down by late afternoon. I passed by a scant handful of curbside offerings. And the streets were as crowded as I would expect on a Sunday evening, with a vegetable market full of shoppers picking up last minute items for dinner.

As I passed through, I saw a small crowd of about six people enthusiastically picking over something on the vegetable mat on the ground. I peeked through and saw a pile of red rambutans, which the lady said was priced at 12 cents a pound. I picked up two, and that was me, wandering through the streets of Saigon like a hungry ghost, and finding an offering of satisfying rambutans.