My professor at the School of Architecture was 10 years older than me, himself a distinguished graduate of the School of Design at MIT. He was an accomplished architect and the recipient of numerous awards.
At class one day he was asked, hypothetically, what made for a good architect. His response: “Being a divorced alcoholic”. Shocking! And with that he demonstrated not only his humor, but also his humanity, essential in the profession of architecture. He became my friend and mentor. He was not a Quaker, but over time he taught me the art of architecture and the art of listening. My personal journey as an architect began with him.
It was twenty-five years ago (give or take) when I was interviewed by a building committee at the Twin Cities Friends Meeting (otherwise known as Quakers, or the Religious Society of Friends) to design a new Meeting House for their membership in St. Paul. The Meeting had outgrown its building on Summit Avenue. The membership of a Quaker Meeting is typically limited to one hundred people because governance by consensus — which is how they govern — is too difficult with larger groups.
So why was I commissioned? Why me? I was an unknown, but they counted on me to bring a fresh perspective to a sacred project. And so, the process began.
The program called for up to 100 people to be seated in a circular arrangement of chairs, along with a variety of building amenities. As I quickly learned, the Building Committee was a definition of inclusion. Members of the Committee had a variety of skills and represented a variety of previous experiences to draw from. Most had never seen a two-dimensional drawing of a floor plan, much less a collection of blueprints, or envision how a collection of blueprints could become a three-dimensional space. They could express themselves verbally, but it took an interpreter to create a building. As their architect, I was that interpreter, seeking to find solutions without compromise.
It took a year and a half of very patient mutual listening to comply with their consensus decision-making form of governance. Consensus requires inclusion, simple as that.
Listening is what Quakers do as everyone’s opinion is to be acknowledged and incorporated. I explored dozens of design options with the committee before hitting on a solution that surprisingly found consensus and a way forward that pleased everyone.
Members of the committee had listened to each other. I had listened to them. And eventually I listened to God.
As their architect, I had learned that the Quaker way of listening in a typical service is an hour of silent meditation. Silence is not the goal. It is a way of listening, listening for the voice of God, because God may come at any moment if you are quiet and receptive.
A group sitting quietly, with no minister, no music, no chanting, no scripture readings, no sermon, is amazing. Make no mistake. It took practice for me to reach a state of quietude where I could actually take active listening to a whole new level ignoring all disruptions.
At one point during a period of silence, a loud voice spoke to me. “Know that I am with you. Know that I have always been with you. Know that I will always be with you.” I heard it clear as day. I immediately spun around. There was no one behind me. No one seemed to have heard what I heard. Since then, as improbable as it may be, I have come to accept that God did speak to me. Quakers believe that “everyone has the capacity for enlightenment.” And so it was with me. Listening for the voice of God gave me hope for my (sometimes turbulent) future.
The building was a success. It is an addition to an older house in a residential neighborhood on Grand Avenue, just west of Macalester College. It seats, as planned, 100 people comfortably but attendance for a typical Sunday service has quickly grown to become almost twice that so there are now two services on Sunday.
My professional life that started with my architecture school professor, friend and mentor has been enriched by new, lasting friendships and the satisfaction of enhancing the Quaker experience for so many.
The Meeting at dusk
Copyright © 2025 by Richard Wolfgramm
Hi Jean: Thanks for your comment. I attend Sunday meetings whenever I’m in the Cities for a weekend.
I learned very much from your writing, since I knew nothing about Quaker gatherings before reading this story. We all have much to learn much about the art of listening. Thanks for sharing your profound experience.
Delighted to read this! A very unique observation that you expressed so well! Quite an experience with Quakers and it seems you learned a great deal. I enjoy your writings. Looking forward to more.
Hi Debi: Thanks for writing. This story is the fourth re-write. It took me 25 years to put together the original draft.
Thank you! May we take the message of “listening the Quaker way” to heart as we work through the issues we face today.
Hi Janice: For me ‘Active’ listening is actually hard work. Thanks for writing.
Hi Janice: Listening, then taking action. Thanks for your note.
They say, “Silence is golden”. Jane Iddings says, ” Don’t be a conversation hijacker, be a good listener”. Richard, you were blessed early in your career to have learned from the Quaker way to be silent and really listen which led you to a rewarding career, happy clients and a great relationship with God and people around you. Thanks for sharing a great story
Hi Monica: Many Quaker meetings are small groups. I was fortunate to work with a larger one. There are several meetings in the Twin Cities area.
I attended Quaker meeting in Kalamazoo Michigan for about two years. I experienced what you describe.
Hi Doris: The Quaker gatherings were originally founded by George Fox in England. George Fox would have been 400 years old in 2024.
Thank you for your story.
Willis: Thanks for reading the story. I enjoyed writing it.
Oh Richard – what an inspiring story and tremendous accomplishment for you. To have listened so deeply so that your architectural suggestions would find consensus must have affected you as well as the congregation. Congratulations on your career as an architect and your success as a writer as well. It’s a pleasure to know you!
Hi Ann (without an ‘e’): I prefer writing fiction. Anything autobiographical is an enormous effort for me. Thanks for your encouragement.