ExclusiveThe ancient story behind the season of Filial Piety | Vietnam Within Us

Every time the seventh lunar month returns, temple bells ring out. People return for the Wulan festival, painting a rose on their shirt. But have you ever asked yourself, why this seventh month and not another month of the year? The answer lies in the story over 2,000 years ago. Today on Vietnam Within Us, let's trade the roots of the season of filial piety together. First, let's talk about the name. Wulan is short for Wulanbong, a transliteration of the sacred word Ulambana, which is the ensign interpreted at releasing the suffering of being hung upside down. They imagine the deepest agony of a sinful soul as being bound and hung upside down in endless pain. So Wulan, from its very name, carries a mission to release souls from that suffering. The story begins with Magalyana, one of the Buddha's chief disciples, renowned as foremost in spiritual powers. After attaining enlightenment, he used his divine eye to seek out his departed mother and was stunned to find her reborn as a hungry ghost, a spirit trapped in the realm of darkness. Her body wasted, forever starving and thirsting. That was the karma of her greed and evil deeds during her life on earth. Grieving for her, Magalyana used his powers to offer her a bowl of rice. But strangely, the moment the rice reached her mouth, it turned to a burning coal and she could not eat a single grain. That disciple, foremost among of all in spiritual power, stood before his mother's suffering, utterly powerless. In deep anguish, Magalyana went back and plead with the Buddha. And the Buddha's answer is what's truly worth pondering. He thought that no matter how great Magalyana's power is, he alone could not save his mother because her karma weighed too heavily. It was like a small boat that could never carry a massive boulder. There was only one way. The combined strength of the Sangha gathered from all ten directions. And the time to do this was the full moon of the seventh lunar month. Why that day specifically? Because the full moon of this seventh month marked Bhavarana, the end of the three-month rain retreat. Through all three months of the rainy seasons, the monks stayed in one place, devoted entirely to practice, never venturing out. By the day the retreat ended, their minds were at their purest, their merit at its fullest for the whole year. The Buddha advised Magalyana to choose the exact day to prepare offerings for the Sangha, then dedicate their merit and his own sincere heart to his mother. Magalyana followed his word. And his mother, touched by the wellspring of goodness, was able to turn her own heart to awaken, to repent, and through this, escape her fate as a hungry ghost. That is exactly why the seventh lunar month became a season of filial piety. It was not by chance, but because it is when the goodness of the world comes together most fully. The ensign thoughtfully chose that precise moment to turn their hearts toward their parents. But hidden beneath the story lies a deeper layer of meaning still. Why couldn't a disciple with the power to move mountains and park seas save his own mother with his own hands? Because some things in this world cannot be overcome by the power alone, and a person's own karma is one of them. Magalyana's mother was only truly saved only when she herself turned her own heart. The bowl of rice turning to fire is also a metaphor. Once greed has become karma, no matter how much you pour into it, it only turns to fire. This reminds us that filial piety was never about lavish feasts or elaborate offerings. True filial piety means living with integrity, planning good deeds for ourselves and for our parents, and guiding the people we love toward goodness. The seventh month is more than a date on a calendar. This is the moment when we can slow down, turn around to look at where we were born, to remember that each of us, no matter how far we go, started from the grace of a father and a mother. And the greatest gifts we can offer to our parents is sometimes simpler than we think, living decently so our parents can have a peace of mind.