Jim Huber sits in silence with other Quakers at the Oread Friends Meeting.

Jean Grant, co-clerk, and Lucy Daldorph, second and third from upper left, teach kids, left to right, Sydney Fraga, Mei Gordon-Washington and Li Gordon-Washington about the Quaker faith.

“Living with God is not an apparition but a wordless and endless sureness. Like the silence of two friends together.” — Bernard Canter

There is nothing obvious at all except the silence.

Every Sunday, or First Day, as they refer to it, the members of the Oread Friends Meeting sit on long wooden pews or individual chairs set in a circle around a bare white room.

Light streams in from the windows and a skylight purposefully constructed to beam the sun’s rays down the center of the room.

Some members have their eyes open, some keep them closed, but they are all stone-cold silent, even the children, some as young as age 3.

The only person talking is God.

He speaks to each member individually as they all sit there, waiting for him, waiting for “The Light” to come to them.

The Friends are Quakers. “Unprogrammed” Quakers, to be exact. That’s their term for the fact that they have no minister giving a sermon, no choir humming in the background, no read-aloud prayers or exclamations of “Amen.”

Their services, meetings as they call them, are unlike anything else in the religious world. And yet they are so simple — just the believer and his or her God. No middle man or dogma or creed to get in the way. Just silence and light and the one voice bigger than all others.

“I love the silence,” says Jean Grant, the meeting’s co-clerk. “(And) the integrity testimony — that no one’s asked me to say that Christ has risen. You’re not reading words that maybe you don’t believe.”

There are no official beliefs. There is no sound. There is only God.

Meet a way of life

The Oread Friends Meeting was formed during the spring of 1950 as an alternative to the “programmed” (i.e., ministered) Quaker meeting in town, the Lawrence Evangelical Friends Church, 1601 N.H. It was chartered by about 20 friends, many of them birthright Quakers from the Northeast who had come to Lawrence to teach at Kansas University.

The meeting is celebrating its 60th anniversary May 16 at its current home, 1146 Ore. The building is nondescript, tucked into a residential neighborhood. The property’s only adornment are two peace poles and a garden dedicated to a member who has died.

There are 15 to 20 attendees to the meeting each week, some driving as far as Overland Park to attend. And they come for more than just an hour of dedicated silence. They come to ground an entire lifestyle based around the idea that there’s God and good in everyone.

During that hour of silence, members focus in on specific monthly queries — questions they ask specifically to help them improve their lives, the meeting and the world.

“We don’t have creed, but we have queries and testimonies,” says Loring Henderson, a birthright Quaker. “We ask ourselves, ask as a meeting and as individuals … are we living frugally, are we minding the environment, are we taking care of the meeting, are we taking care of others in the meeting?

“It’s just a way of always seeking a revelation or an answer of the best way to live.”

Finding the light

That way of life includes action. Because a core belief is that there is value and worth in everyone, they condemn violence and negative social actions against all humans and living beings. The Quakers were leaders in the abolitionist and Civil Rights movements and have long been open and affirming to homosexual and transgender people.

“Actions against those who are different than us often lead to social behavior, including war, that leads to humiliation, leads to debasement, degradation,” says member Beth Schultz. “And I, as (someone who believes) that everyone is like myself, struggling, searching, trying to exercise that goodness in somebody… (The Quakers) keep me always alert to the need to try a non-violent approach to life.”

Because of this belief, many Quakers are conscientious objectors to military service and do not believe in war. Many meeting members are also members of the Lawrence Coalition for Peace and Justice.

“It’s a powerhouse in lots of ways for a small group,” says Henderson, himself the director of the Lawrence Homeless Shelter. “Everyone here is involved in something, really accomplishing things, far beyond the numbers of people.”

The word peace, in fact, is all around the meeting house. From a sign and the double peace poles out front, to the many peace-seeking pamphlets in its entry way, to banners the members’ children have painted in memory of the soldiers, children and animals involved in wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, it is everywhere.

Just like God is everywhere — in the light and in the silence.

“George Fox had a kind of vision in which he saw the light covering the world and associated the light with God, with goodness,” Schultz says of the religion’s founder. “And I think there is in Quaker thinking, there is always an attempt to reassociate ourselves with the light or with light.”