Provo — They assembled this week on the campus at BYU, 75 delegates from 45 countries representing every corner of the planet.

Between them they had more degrees than a thermometer, more titles than a county clerk. Most spoke multiple languages.

Virtually every major religion, and a bunch of minor ones, were represented. Almost every continent was there.

Rarely has a better-educated, more diverse group of people been convened.

Know how many press conferences they held or press releases they issued?

Zero.

That's because the whole point behind the International Law and Religion Symposium hosted annually by BYU isn't to draw attention to the delegates or their meeting. The point is to quietly and behind the scenes effect meaningful progress for one universal cause: freedom of religion.

Every year they do this, ever since the early 1990s when a BYU law school professor named W. Cole Durham Jr. had a dream. His dream was to bring together men and women of all races, creeds, faiths and legal systems so collectively they could find common ground to plant the flag of religious autonomy.

Also known as the right of all people to worship how, where or what they may.

To that end, in 1994 Durham convened the first International Law and Religion Symposium at BYU. It's been held every year since, even if you and I haven't heard of it.

I learned of this year's symposium quite by chance — from friends who are serving an LDS mission in Africa and accompanied delegates from Ghana to this year's meeting.

I showed up Wednesday as a fly on the wall: to witness the vast international assemblage in person at the symposium's midday break. I was not disappointed. I watched as people of all description sat down amiably together for lunch.

It was the United Nations, only more tranquil. Utah County, of all places, may have been the world's most diverse place on this day.

I found Durham at one of the lunch tables. He was cordial and pleasant enough — but about as eager to talk to the press as Lindsay Lohan when she went through rehab.

"Uh, um, uh, there are much better people to talk to than me," stammered the symposium's founder.

I congratulated him on organizing such a lofty forum.

"Religious freedom, it's pretty important to a lot of us," he allowed, his eyes sweeping the ballroom looking for someone to pawn me off on. "We like to get together and talk about it."