Right across the street from my apartment building is an interesting little compound of Quakers. Next to the entry way is a sign reading “University Friends Meeting”, a phrase for which if I heard with no other context would assume is printed on posterboard outside an alumni gathering at some mid-tier hotel in Shanghai. The entry leads to a small courtyard in which resides a small Japanese maple tree, and from which you can enter two separate buildings. Moving to the left will lead you to the larger of the two wings, ostensibly the primary meeting place, and which I can sometimes see occupied with people sitting in repose on Thursday evenings.

On Sunday, they have two services, a fact that is openly shared right below the same sign indicating the name of the organization. For some reason, I felt compelled to attend some religious service when I woke up this morning, half-joking to my non-religious wife that it was time to wake up for Mass. Calling my bluff, she promptly searched for the nearest Catholic church which was located about twenty minutes walk from us on the north side of the University. Since I had come that far already by broaching the topic, I decided why the ay chee double hockey sticks not, and dressed in pants and a shirt and attended Mass.

The Philippines is a Catholic nation, and my parents were raised Catholic who in turn raised me Catholic. Everything I know about religion is against the background of CCD classes and reconciliations, stuffy noses from incense, being an usher and standing in the narthex, subconsciously counting how many people entered through my door compared with the other ushers. I have long stopped attending Mass regularly, like many aging Millenials, but have developed a renewed interest in religion over the past two years. In that time, I sampled a few different churches across Oregon and Washington, Catholic and Protestant alike. I attended Vipassana meditation practices, and joined a zendo for a while as well. Despite the decades long headstart Catholicism had against these newcomers, I came to the conclusion a while ago that the Catholic Church was not the organization where I most wanted to spend my time on Sundays. While I went to Mass earlier today, the service did nothing to change my mind.

On my way back from church, I noticed that the second Quaker service of the day was starting up. Since I was again left wanting from my experience at the Catholic church, and already on a religious role of sorts that day, I decided to enter on a whim.

Two women stood at the entrance to the courtyard. They were older, but greeted me warmly. My mind immediately flashed to the zendo I used to go to, where the community was similarly aged, though more serious on their initial impression. One of the women led me into the main “worship” center, which I’m sure the Quakers have a more specific word for, in which a few dozen people were seated in rough rings facing towards the center of the room where serveral microphone hung from the ceiling. It was very quiet.

I had entered about 15 minutes into the meeting, and quite bashfully eased myself into a seat on one of the rows facing west. Looking around, most people had their eyes closed in mediatation, but several others were reading Bibles or looking around as I was. On the far wall was a large screen showing serveral people on a Zoom call, who were all joining this meeting remotely. It was interesting that were it not for the silence, this arrangement would not look out of place in one of the large conference rooms of the company where I work. There was the rustle of pages, and the occasional cough, sneeze, adjustment, but no words were said for at least twenty minutes.

I sat there in silence, doing my best to mediatate using the few techniques that I knew. The main one I employ is to focus my eyes on the midpoint between my eyebrows, so that my eyes are looking up and I can usually hear (or maybe its feel) a rush of blood to a new muscle on the side of my head that never gets used. That tip comes from the Bhagavad Gita, and while I don’t recall exactly what Kṛṣṇa said it but really if it’s good enough for the godhead it’s certaintly good enough for me. I also like to mentally tag my breaths in and out, like mentally visualize the word “In” and “Out” while letting the breath do it’s thing as much a spoissible. Letting the conscious mind become engrossed with the routine of the unconscious, how our breathing has its own rhythm, where intakes simply arrive. No human meddling required at all, just the lizard part of our brain working magic so well we are not even aware what’s happening.

After about 20 minutes or so, the silence was broken suddenly by one of the Zoom attendees. An older gentleman gave a short speech on the history of the Quakers, the persecution at the hands of the Church of England, and the resilience of the Religion Society of Friends. After the man had said his piece, the quiet again enveloped the room. Having opened my eyes again, I looked around the room and noticed that while many of those gathered were of older generations, there were a fair amount of younger people as well. There was even a young boy, who was playing in the northeast corner of the room, jovial little yelps occasionally intermingling with the silence.

From this point on, more people began speaking usually in a rough rhythm of about 2 to 3 minutes between speakers. The topics ranged a bit, but centered mainly on difficulties, both personal and societal. I won’t recount the details here since I fear it may be an invasion of the attendee’s privacy, but to hear ordinary people share such incredible pain in a candid fashion was both jarring and beautiful. In all my years of nominal Catholic participation, I had never witnessed such vulnerability. The sense of coummunity and comfort was as lovely as the sunlight streaming in through the windows, and I couldn’t help but smile a bit, though it may have been inappropriate given the subject matter at hand I hope those speaking could detect it was a smile of appreciation, and not an indication of something more flippant.

After a total of 45 minutes, the meeting (I am still not sure if this is the correct noun, I will have to learn more later) officially concluded. A spectacled man rose and encouraged members to share any joys they had from the past week. A few stood, evidently the number of joys was less than the number of tribulations. The same man then encouraged new attendees, of which there were several including myself, to introduce themselves. About 4 young women stood up in turn, and most had some prior experience or interaction with Quakerism, one for example had previously attended a Quaker school.

When it was my turn to speak, I was quite lost for words. After a brief but noticable pause, I decided to just stumble through my honest account of what led me in that morning. That I lived right across the street and had always wondered what happened in this hall. That I was a bit adrift, and had not found my spiritual home. I tried to conclude by thanking them for opening their space to me, and that I had a lot to learn, hoping to not offend anyone since I didn’t presently know anything about Quakerism and am not fully committed to joining the Friends. But what I can say for certain though is that in all my years as part of the Catholic church I have never had the experience of standing in front of the congregation to speak. And now here I was addressing the Quakers’ Sunday meeting on my first visit. The contrast in feelings I had between the Quakers and the Catholics was immediately obvious to me.

I was the last of the newcomers, and with that, the meeting was adjourned (? nomenclature to be confirmed). The women sitting next to me shook my hand and thanked me for joining them, and I did my best to give them the same kindness in turn. The last woman that I met gave me a packet, took my contact information, and invited me to the post-meeting luncheon which I unfortunately had to refuse since my wife was likely wondering where I was.

I very much enjoyed my morning with the Quakers, and am genuinely looking forward to attending more meetings in the future. In hindsight, a meditation focused Christian society seems like something that would be up my alley, combining a canon I’m already familiar with a practice that I had recently adopted. Also, the newsletter I received is punk rock as hell, they advertised a workshop for assembling ICE whistle kits and know your rights cards. With regards to religion, I am still inclined to avoid strict labels on what I am and am not, but so far the Quakers are alright with me and I’m happy to have them as neighbors.