Jesus on the Side

Some might call this proselytizing, this allure of easy, free food to those with young, impressionable minds, hungry bellies and empty pocketbooks. "They're trying to brainwash you!" insisted Rachel Goldfarb, a T.C. student who refuses to go to Jesus Pizza.

To others, such as Tommy Clark, who are devout, it's a great place to come for fellowship. "I've had people say, 'I love to come here. Everyone is so nice. I feel so welcome,' " said Clark, who runs a Jesus Pizza group on the Internet. "It's pretty cool to see the biggest stoners and drug dealers come, too.'"

Still, when the morning announcements at the public school include an invitation to come to Jesus Pizza could that blur the bright line separating church and state?

"They come in. If they want to hear what we're saying, they stay. If they don't, they can leave," said Mary Rhoades, who works with youth at the church.

Added interim youth pastor Mac McCreery: "We just want to be a blessing to the students. To show that we care about them. God cares about them. We open up the church, show we're available. There's no pressure. This is a safe place to come and have fun -- when they're here, they're not behind T.C. smoking weed."

John Porter, an assistant superintendent of the Alexandria school system and former T.C. principal, said the school's policy allowing students off grounds for lunch means that where kids go and what they do is up to them, not the school. And the morning announcements don't mention "Jesus Pizza," he said, just an invitation from a Christian student group to come to First Baptist for pizza and fellowship.

"In my experience over the years, most of the kids have gone for the food," Porter said. "It's free pizza. And kids certainly enjoy free food."

And he doesn't recall any parent expressing concern about it.

That's because most parents don't know about it, said Sheila Martin, 17, who joined the church after coming to Jesus Pizza and now leads Wednesday night teen Bible study. "I imagine if some of the kids' parents knew they were coming, they'd be upset," she said. "Some people would see it as a conversion tool. Others might see it as a positive thing for students."

As the four students roasted in their car, Rhoades and McCreery greeted the high school students who filtered into the basement youth fellowship hall and steered them toward the computer where students are asked to provide a phone number and e-mail address. The turnout was big on this spring day, perhaps 145 students.

As students grabbed their slices -- a three-slice limit until all are served -- and flopped on couches, McCreery turned down the music, took up a microphone and prayed. "Father, thank you for this beautiful day . . . "

He told a story about how he had gotten in trouble as a high schooler for toilet papering a friend's house. "How many of you feel God is like that? Waiting for you to screw up so he can punish you?" Then he told the Bible story of a woman about to be stoned for her sins who was saved when Jesus began writing the sins of her accusers in the dirt, telling them that the one without sin should cast the first stone. "Do you believe Jesus could have compassion on you? Like with that lady?" McCreery asked. "Just think about that."

Off went the microphone. Up went the music. And the students began again to chatter and eat. Keith Wiggins, 16, doesn't really believe in God, but coming "is helping us stay out of trouble." Across the couch, Celina Johnson, 15, said, "Most everyone I know at least listens."

Jesus Pizza is three years old. The program began when a former pastor decided the church needed to reach out to the high school community. It began sending vans to the school to take kids to a pizza joint. By last spring there were too many kids for the vans, and ministers began serving pizza at the church.

Don Davidson, First Baptist's senior pastor, said Jesus Pizza has a long-term mission.

"We do not expect to have hundreds of students showing up at church on Sunday. But we want them to feel this is a friendly place," he said. "So someday, if they're at a crossroads or experiencing a difficult time, something they can't handle by themselves, they will remember there was a church on King Street that opened its doors to them."

Back out in the baking parking lot, the four boys debated whether to dash back into the church for seconds. They are used to the state-mandated Moment of Silence in school. And they know students who belong to the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, an after-school club that came to campus three years ago only after lengthy meetings with Porter and school system legal counsel to make sure the club would not cross church-state boundaries.

But the four like to keep their free food free of religion.

"I had to block their e-mails," said Sumeet Mahal, who is Hindu. "They were like, 'You came on Wednesday, maybe you'd like to come to our Sunday service to hang out and talk.' My mother doesn't care if I come for pizza. But she would be kind of upset if I were to convert."

"What! You gave them your real e-mail address? I never do," Mabley said. "It's a reverse missionary project. Instead of them coming to you, they get you to come to them."

"It's really clever," said Stephens, who lifted up a heavy sweatshirt to show off the Jesus Pizza T-shirt he wears, he said, to be "ironic." The black T-shirt, which was also free, sports a triangular slice of pizza and the words "Jesus Pizza" on the front and reads on the back, "Jesus Got Hungry, Too."

Most parents don't know about Jesus Pizza, they said. They began to muse what parents and administrators would say if it were a local mosque handing out Mohammed Pizza, say, or a synagogue with Moses Pizza. Or Hare Krishna Pizza.

But by the time parents figure out what's going on, they said, Jesus Pizza will have come to an end. Next year, when the new T.C. Williams building is complete, the cafeteria will be big enough for all the students.

They will no longer be allowed to leave for lunch.