Loy Krathong keeps faith alive in Randers
Approximately 8,775 kilometres away from Bangkok, around 30 women and a few men are seated in front of two monks in Randers, as proof that Buddhism can still flourish here.
The woman in the front row begins the ceremony with a somewhat hoarse voice and a prayer, where the last word of each sentence is drawn out slightly longer than the rest. The half-metre-high Vonyx speakers carry the shrill tones mostly clearly so the entire house on Randersvej can hear the prayer.
The former Central Jutland farmhouse has been transformed into a Thai oasis, with orange curtains in the old living room, gold-clad Buddha statues, and whiteboards with Thai script describing what needs to be done at the temple during the week.
The attendees sit closely on the floor in front of the two monks, Sutthichai Thakong and his colleague. It has been eight days since the annual Loy Krathong festival took place in Thailand.
The tradition has many stories. According to Sutthichai, it symbolises letting bad sins drift away on small krathongs – boats made of banana leaves and decorated with flowers, candles, and incense.
“Floating a krathong shows respect for the water goddess, Phra Mae Khongkha, and also symbolises a new beginning,” he explains.
Sutthichai’s right shoulder is lit by the autumn sun as he holds the microphone and recites “The Buddha’s Words on Loving Kindness”:
“Let them not do the slightest thing that the wise would later reprove. With a wish for joy and safety, may all beings find peace. Whatever living beings there may be, whether they are weak or strong, without exception.”
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Community Across Generations
The two monks sit slightly elevated on a platform above the floor – a symbolic gesture of respect and hierarchy. 70-year-old Duenchai Kangphrom, who makes use of the temple on traditional days like today, sits with her hands pressed together, fingers pointing towards the ceiling. Her gaze shifts between the floor and the monks dressed in orange.
“Buddhism, for me, is a kind of philosophy,” says Duenchai, who moved from Thailand to Denmark in 1988. In recent years, she has found the temple in Randers to be a spiritual gathering place.
“It’s like talking to a psychologist. There’s a good opportunity to find peace here.” She adds, while buying a krathong from the temple: “There’s a strong sense of community, and it’s such a good way to stay connected to one’s culture.”
For Duenchai and many other Thai Buddhists, the ceremony taking place in Central Jutland today – ‘Loy Krathong’ – is a way to stay rooted in their heritage.
Today, it is adapted to fit the Danish setting. In Thailand, the tradition is celebrated with fireworks and by setting krathongs afloat on large rivers. On this side of the world, it happens more humbly, but the meaning of the ceremony remains unchanged.
“We send our sins away and welcome good things, like a fresh start,” explains 53-year-old Chakkrit Khunburan, who moved to Denmark as a child and grew up in a Christian home.
Although his connection to Buddhism is not deeply spiritual, he still sees the festival as an important part of his identity.
“It’s a way to promote our culture and traditions for future generations, even here in Denmark,” he says, referring to the few young people among the participants.
A Helping Hand
Chakkrit acts as the temple’s helping hand for practical tasks and assisting the monks.
“It’s important for me to contribute so we can keep our faith and community alive.”
For Chakkrit, working with the temple is not only a way to support the Buddhist community, but also a chance to strengthen his connection to his own culture and share it with others.
Inside, on the soft red carpet that fills the room and makes it more comfortable for participants to sit on their knees, the prayer continues with a familiar rhythm. Everyone holds small krathongs gently with both hands in front of their faces.
Monk Sutthichai reads from the *Buddha Chantings* book. His voice flows smoothly through the words, until a few sentences in, he stumbles over the phrasing. He chuckles into the microphone at the slip-up as the only one laughing.
The crowded room patiently waits for him to return to the text, so they can repeat after him, much like one would during marriage vows.
A Bridge Between Cultures
Chakkrit, who was both baptised and confirmed in the Danish national church, sees no conflict between the two religions. “For me, Buddhism is like Christianity – it’s about being a good person. But festivals like Loy Krathong remind me of where I come from,” he explains.
Duenchai agrees. “We are far from Thailand, but through the temple we find each other and keep our culture alive.”
All the guests move through the courtyard, past a fire that spreads the smell of smoke and stings the eyes. Each person, holding a krathong, walks alongside the temple’s two monks past three women standing on the warmer side of the fire. Then everyone continues down the small snow-covered slope to the lake in the backyard. Chakkrit shrugs. “Uhh, it’s cold.” The small lake is surrounded by people all the way around.
The candles are lit, and everyone sets their krathongs afloat on the water and ice, while chunks of ice are thrown onto the lake in an attempt to break a hole in it. Some krathongs are struck by the ice, others begin to catch fire from the candle.
Smiles form around the group, passing from the monk to the women tossing ice onto the lake. Although the tradition is meaningful, the difference in environment and temperature brings a light-hearted tone to the situation and the ceremony.
For Sutthichai and many other Thai Buddhists, traditions are an important connection to their roots.
“I’m happy to see that you remember this tradition,” he says, before turning to the crowd with a kind but serious tone. “It’s important to teach your children, even those with Danish-Thai backgrounds, what Buddhism means.”