If you arrive in Vietnam during the seventh lunar month, you may catch sight of offering trays placed before homes, at temples, or along the roadside: thin rice porridge, uncooked rice, salt, fresh fruit, and an array of other foods.
You might find yourself thinking:
"Is this Vietnam's Ghost Month?"
Not quite.
And if you simply call it "the month of ghosts," you would miss one of the most beautiful layers of Vietnamese culture.
The seventh lunar month is not Vietnam's Halloween.
It is not primarily about demons or fear.
It is about gratitude, remembrance, and compassion.
A month to honor those who have passed
The full moon of the seventh month is tied to Vu Lan (Ullambana), one of the most significant occasions in Vietnamese Buddhism.
The story goes that Muc Kien Lien (Maudgalyayana), a great disciple of the Buddha, learned that his mother was suffering after her death. He sought to save her and realized that love for one's parents lies not merely in words, but in performing acts of merit, dedicating blessings, and living righteously while they are still alive.
From that time, Vu Lan became an occasion for Vietnamese people to:
remember their parents, honor their ancestors, and express gratitude to those who gave them life and nurtured them.
This is also why you may see roses pinned to clothing during the Vu Lan season.
🌹 Red rose: parents are still alive.
🤍 White rose: parents have passed away.
A small flower carries a profound reminder:
Love your parents while they are still by your side.
But the Vietnamese do not only remember their own kin
The seventh lunar month is also associated with the custom of cung co hon—offerings to wandering souls.
According to folk belief, there are spirits who passed away without families, without anyone to worship them, or without a place of refuge. The Vietnamese set aside a portion of their offerings to remember and share with these souls.
So there is something truly special:
The Vietnamese remember even those who do not belong to their own family.
That is why the trays for wandering souls are often placed outdoors.
Why rice porridge, rice, and salt?
Folk tradition holds that wandering souls are hungry spirits who cannot eat or drink as the living do.
The porridge is cooked very thin, almost just water. Rice and salt are also scattered around as offerings for the roaming spirits.
Today, not every Vietnamese person believes these things in a literal sense. Many families perform the rituals simply because they are part of family tradition and community culture.
But behind these humble offerings lies a beautiful idea:
If someone has been forgotten, remember them.
"Giat co hon" and a rather surprising sight
If you travel to southern Vietnam during this time, you may witness a curious scene.
After the offering ceremony concludes, children or nearby residents rush forward to gather the offerings.
To foreign visitors, this might look like a scramble.
But in folk culture, it is tied to the notion that what has been given should be shared.
And in the end, the food offered to the departed becomes food for the living.
Belief transforms into generosity.
Another story of equality
Nguyen Du, one of Vietnam's greatest poets, once wrote "Van te thap loai chung sinh," commonly known as Van chieu hon—an elegy for all kinds of souls.
He named countless lives that had ended: the noble, the poor, soldiers, women, children...
In life, they may have differed in status and wealth.
But before death, all are equal.
And all deserve to be remembered.
This offers a deeper way to understand the seventh lunar month:
No one should be forgotten simply because they no longer have loved ones beside them.
So what is the seventh lunar month, truly?
Not a month to fear ghosts.
Not Halloween.
Not all Vietnamese share the same belief or practice.
It is a convergence of Buddhism, folk spirituality, and Vietnamese family traditions passed down through generations.
But if it must be summed up in a single sentence, perhaps it is this:
The seventh lunar month is when the Vietnamese remember the departed, give thanks to their parents, and open their hearts to souls whom no one else remembers.
A month of memory.
A month of gratitude.
And above all, a month of compassion.
So next time you see a tray of thin porridge by the roadside in Vietnam during the seventh lunar month, do not simply think:
"Ghost Month."
Think:
"They are remembering someone."