The Birthday Gift

March 9, 2016

I was invited to join our driver, Mick, and his wife for his birthday visit to temple.  Thais often go to temple on the morning of their birthdays to make merit for the coming year.

The main building of Wat Huay Yai is a huge, towering temple, currently surrounded by bamboo scaffolding.  This sunny morning the gilded edifice was sparkling in the morning sun.  Temples here actually consist of several buildings within a walled area, and we entered a second building area from the unpaved parking lot.

People worshiped statues of Buddha in the main, open-air entrance; many of the statues were covered with bits of gold leaf, applied by the devotees, making the statues look spotted.  Many options for merit-making greet visitors with different ways to give money.  One can put money in the pot for the day of the week on which you were born, which is a significant day in Buddhism. A large, casket-like box allows for donations to remember deceased loved ones.  A shop in the back of this area offers prepackaged gift baskets of food and necessities to give to the monks.  Mick's wife asked me what day of the week I was born, and bought a gift pack for me and one for Mick.

Shoes removed, we climbed the beautifully-ornate gilded staircase, into a small "upper room."  People were already seated in three or four rows on the floor, facing the four or five monks at the front.  Rows of gift packs, and platters for flowers, incense and money, divided the rows of people.  My companions placed their offerings of flowers and incense on one of the platters, along with an envelop of money.

Once the room was full, with the "logistics" monks guiding everyone into place, the chanting began.  Mick's wife sweetly showed me what to do, when to fold hands, etc. After much chanting, gifts were collected.  Women are not allowed to hand anything directly to a monk.  For women, the monk put a cloth on the floor, we would place the gift on the cloth, and the monk would pull the cloth toward him; it was only a matter of a few inches away.  Men could hand their gifts directly.  It was all very business-like and systematic, a routine obviously performed thousands of times before.

After the gifts were collected, everyone moved forward to sit more closely together, our knees nearly touching the back of the person in front of us.  Again more chanting; at one point, we placed our hand on the back of the person ahead of us.  Then a huge white cloth was drawn over everyone, and the chanting continued while we were under the cloth.  It was quite warm under the cloth, and it reminded me of the parachute games our kids played in elementary school gym class.  After about five minutes, my old, achy hips started to object.  The cloth was finally drawn back, and I breathed a sigh of relief.  The respite was brief, however, as the cloth was drawn over us once again.

The upper room

After the cloth was finally taken away, a white string was drawn around the entire group; we in the back row held the string in our folded hands.   Still more chanting, and much sprinkling of water, much more than in our church.  I'm sure the people in the front row were quite soaked, and the "logistics" monks swiftly mopped the floor around us as the chanting continued.  Small bowls with vials of water were distributed to those remembering a loved one.  Mick's wife recently lost her mother, so she took one.  She took my hand and put it on the vial, then together we slowly poured the water into the bowl as the monks chanted.  "Go now in peace?"  All stood up and left, and those who poured the water into a bowl carried it with them out of the room and down the stairs. They walked to the back of the building where I saw them pour the water onto the base of a Buddha tree.

She gave me twenty baht and we both went to the "casket" to remember lost loved ones, then we dropped the money into the box.  We took some final pictures, then headed to the car.

On the drive home, I asked Mick what the monks were saying when they chanted - he didn't know.  He said they were speaking Thai, but he didn't understand.  He said something about language from Bali, perhaps a more ancient version of Thai.  He was a monk for a short time nearly ten years ago, as is the tradition for most Thai men.  But he didn't remember what the chanting words were exactly, and would probably have trouble putting them into English.  They said this was the first time they had seen the cloth pulled over everyone's heads.  One time was for remembering loved ones, and the second for those celebrating their birthdays.  I assumed this was a usual part of the ritual, but that was not the case.

Really a fascinating experience - what a privilege.  It wasn't my birthday, but I received the gift.