Reflections on Visiting Jogye Order Temples in New York

When I first heard that there were Jogye Order temples of Korean Buddhism in New York City, I was both surprised and curious. I had always associated Buddhism with East Asia or the mountains of Nepal and Tibet, but I had never realized that in the middle of the busiest city in the world, Korean monks were quietly chanting, meditating, and carrying on a tradition that stretches back more than a thousand years. As a single man in my mid-thirties, trying to make sense of life in a city that often feels overwhelming, I was drawn to the idea of exploring something that might provide me with a sense of balance and perspective.

Walking through Manhattan, I often feel swallowed by the noise—the blaring horns, the rush of commuters, the constant advertisements and screens. Yet when I first stepped into a Jogye temple, I felt as though I had entered a completely different world. The outside street was filled with traffic, but the inside was filled with incense, quiet chanting. For a moment, it felt like the city had disappeared.

The first thing that struck me about the temple was the statue of the Buddha. It wasn’t just the size or the craftsmanship, but the presence it seemed to carry. I had seen plenty of Buddha statues before in museums, but this was different. 

I began to learn that the Jogye Order emphasizes meditation, mindfulness, and the teachings of Seon (Korean Zen). What fascinated me was how familiar and foreign it felt at the same time. On the one hand, the emphasis on quieting the mind resonated with the mindfulness apps and yoga classes I had already been dabbling in. On the other hand, the atmosphere of devotion, with prostrations and ritual, was something much deeper than anything I had encountered in those commercialized versions of meditation.

Reflecting on my visits to the Jogye Order temples in New York, I have come away with several lessons. First, spirituality is not confined to geography. Even in the middle of skyscrapers and subways, the wisdom of the Buddha can flourish. Second, community matters. For someone like me—single, often feeling isolated in a city of millions—it was eye-opening to see how a shared spiritual practice can create deep bonds among people. Finally, I realized that peace is not something we find outside of ourselves; it is something we cultivate within, and then carry back into the noisy streets.

In the weeks since my visits, I have tried to incorporate small practices into my daily life. A few minutes of meditation in the morning, a moment of gratitude before meals, even just breathing deeply when stress builds up. These are small steps, but they remind me of what I felt inside those temple walls.

As I look ahead, I feel grateful that the Jogye Order has made a home here in New York. Their presence has reminded me that no matter where we come from—Korea, America, or anywhere else—we are all seekers of meaning, all trying to navigate the challenges of life. And maybe, just maybe, by slowing down, bowing our heads, and opening our hearts, we can find the wisdom and compassion to live better together.

By Alex Kirkman