For my Teaching and Ethics class, we were assigned to seek out an experience where:

• One of your characteristics is substantially different from those around you (ex. A gendered sport like ballet or football, an African American church, etc)
• Deeply reflect on the feelings you experienced in that situation
• Reflect on the actions of others during that experience and how those actions made you feel
• Apply this experience to your future interactions with diverse individuals to create a more welcoming environment

I chose to go to the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Harford County one Sunday back in early October of this year. My professor found my paper particularly moving, so I thought I’d share it here on the blog.

Call of the Shofar

Following the resounding blasts of the Shofar, Rabbi Meeka Simerly and Reverend Jaye Brooks launched into a reading of “Atonement Day” by Chaim Stern. I sat a row back amidst a congregation of middle aged to elderly Caucasian faces, scanning the room for another brown person like me. I made eye contact with the one lone African American gentleman as we stood up for yet another hymn. I felt a bit panicked when I heard Reverend Brooks state cheerfully that the “Waters of Babylon” was a song that we all know. I looked on the monitors near the ceiling desperately for the lyrics, trying to mouth along to a song I had never heard before.

Background

I was not aware of how odd and lacking my religious upbringing really was until my family moved back to the US in 2002. My mother is from the Philippines, and was essentially made to marry my American soldier father in the Philippines by my grandfather in hopes of lifting her family out of poverty. I was baptized Catholic there, and I have vague memories of my mother slipping me the bread of Christ from her tongue at mass. My earliest definitive memories, however, are of going to a Korean Buddhist temple in Washington state after my father converted us to Buddhism. Later, when I was about the age of four, my father came back from his first deployment to Saudi Arabia with a newer, much stricter religion.

Our conversion to that particular sect of Islam felt quite abrupt and stark from one day kowtowing to giant Buddha statues to suddenly having all the eyes on cd covers and vhs tapes inked out because we couldn’t have depictions of people anymore. When we were stationed in Japan in 1995, we joined a small religious community of Muslims on-base and more at the Tokyo Islamic Center where we practiced until we were stationed in 2002 to an airbase in New Mexico.

Those years were a very traumatic time in my life that I am still processing in therapy. As a child, I absorbed a lot of harmful ideas about gender inequality, modesty, and subservience in the household. My father grew increasingly abusive through the years and utilized religion as a tool to demean and maintain control over my mother and me. We eventually sought help from our local domestic shelter and left him when I was in my mid-teens. I have nothing against Islam or any other religion today, but I generally shy away from the topic when people ask me about my beliefs because of how complicated my background is.

For this empathy experiment, I went to a service that was completely different from any that I had ever experienced before, one whose pamphlet claimed, “Whatever your heritage, however your history, and whomever you love, you’re welcome here.” I was initially nervous and highly uncomfortable since I normally would avoid churches, especially with experiences I had directly Post 9/11; one involving being forced out of our base chapel in Japan, even though it was supposed to be open to all religions.

The Empathy Experience

It was a beautiful crisp morning when I entered the UU church. I talked with the attendant manning a booth of various swag and pamphlets who appeared delighted it was my first time there. The building itself was not ostentatiously decorated. It felt rather sparse in their auditorium, with chairs instead of pews, a piano, and a large window to let in the sunlight. A woman passed me a heavy hymnal, and, flipping through, I found some songs I knew in the international language section – the Japanese cherry blossom song I learned as a kid, and, ironically a chant of Alhamdulillah.

The service of the day featured a visiting Rabbi originally from Israel, Meeka Simerly, who opened with an acknowledgement to the War in Gaza and the lives lost on either side. There were a few readings, one from the Torah, a funny Jewish folktale, a Poem by Joy Harjo called, “Once the World was Perfect,” and a poem, “Every Tree,” by Rumi. I was initially confused by the large amount of singing and standing. Both the Rabbi and Reverend attempted to lead the group in a “round” singing of “Hashiveinu” that was awkwardly stilted. I felt a little frustrated and embarrassed after making the mistake of following a man next to me who was confidently singing off key and off the timing.

One segment that I found particularly meaningful and poignant was called, “Candles of Sharing,” in which the floor was open for the audience to share something meaningful and light a candle for it. A few members who were openly queer or trans came to the forefront to tell about how the congregation has helped feel welcomed, pay for medical bills, and what a wonderful Pride celebration the UU Church helped to put on.

Their words stayed with me. I have witnessed a lot of racism, bigotry, and hate not just on a Wahhabist Islamist side, but also from so-called Christian goers. I cannot fathom the journey they must have had to find this church. I was skeptical reading the pamphlets I was given, about how the UU claims to be nondenominational and all-accepting even though they state that they adhere to a Judeo-Christian viewpoint. This is noticed in their naming of their holy building as a “church” and even in the structure of their order of service. Yet, it blew my mind to think that this church had a booth at a local Pride Day!  It was nice and refreshing, especially as I had not witnessed such acceptance in that area within a religious setting before. It took me back to memories of an internship I once had during a summer in grad school where I worked in Kuala Lumpur with an organization, called Musawah, to help women (some lesbian or queer) to fight for legal rights in Islam. What can you do when your religion refuses to accept your worth as a human being? I’m glad these people were able to find a welcoming place with the Harford UU church.

After the service was over, I chatted with some of the members over a cup of coffee and snacks. Unfortunately, I was unable to introduce myself to the one African American man I made eye contact with earlier. I learned quite a few of the members were former employees of the Aberdeen Proving Ground (APG) where I work, with one having taught Math there. After mentioning how I had formerly taught English and Drama in China, one elderly gentleman asked if I could sing and join the band because they needed more members! I had to kindly decline.

A lovely woman showed me around where they have “Sunday School” for children in a separate wing of the building. Each classroom was undergoing a renovation. Each room was decorated in the theme of a Harry Potter “House,” but with various mystical animals’ of the students’ own creations. It did feel weird that they had Buddhist prayer flags all over the ceiling in one room. I remarked that those ought to be outside for them to work as they’re intended, having actually been to Tibet, but I doubt that made a difference.

            Overall, it was a nice service. I enjoyed the message of acceptance and self-reflection. I did feel like I was in the minority in terms of race and age. Everyone that I talked to was very kind, though. It was eye-opening to experience a religious institution that was so welcoming to people, especially the LBGTQIA+ community. It was also nice not to feel lectured to, as in that I was not explicitly told how to act and behave by some set of religious rules and regulations by the Reverend or visiting Rabbi. I do not think I would attend regularly, as it is still sometimes uncomfortable for me to be around things that are too much like a church, and all the standing and singing felt out of my comfort zone. However, I would consider returning if there is another interesting talk.