The Virginian-Pilot
                            THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT  
              Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: Friday, January 27, 1995               TAG: 9501270461
SECTION: DAILY BREAK              PAGE: E1   EDITION: FINAL 
                                             LENGTH: Medium:   76 lines

THE SILENTY MINORITY

Will Jenkins

DON'T CALL WILL Jenkins deeply religious. It makes him seem too somber, too dour, almost like a Buddhist monk. ``It sounds like I don't have fun,'' he said.

For Jenkins, a 17-year-old from Norfolk with almost a perpetual grin, religion can be fun. At Kempsville Presbyterian Church, he's led skits during services - once portraying a yuppie who had no use for kids, another time a gangster trying to take over the church.

But don't get him wrong. The junior at Norfolk Christian High School is intensely serious about his faith. ``Works can't save you,'' he said. ``It's only by believing in Jesus. Jesus said he was the way, so I take him at his word. . . .I'd stake my life on it.''

In addition to morning prayers, Jenkins says he regularly talks to Jesus in his mind: ``He's like a best friend, and he's there all the time. We don't always acknowledge him, but he's there for us to help us.''

Sometimes Jenkins will confess his shortcomings to Christ: ``I sort of messed that up, or I said some stuff I shouldn't have.'' Sometimes he will ask for advice: ``I've got this decision here; please guide me as to what's best and what your will is.''

Often, Jenkins feels, Jesus resolves the matter. Last year, Jenkins talked to Christ about whether to take a short trip to Russia; a severe diabetic, he worried about medical care there. His visa arrived after the trip deadline, so he couldn't go.

``When I'm talking to him about decisions, I just try to put it in his hands. It's letting him take control. `Let your will be done.' ''

But group prayer is important, too, Jenkins said. That's part of the reason he thinks organized prayer should be allowed in school: ``You have to have fellowship. God had told us to meet together. It's like putting a baby in a room with no human contact. He'll die.''

- Philip Walzer

Michelle Odanga

MICHELLE ODANGA SAYS she's not closed off to religion. If someone offered her the right arguments, she might believe in God. But right now, she's an atheist.

Odanga - a quiet, terse junior at Norfolk's Booker T. Washington High School - doesn't like all the fighting she sees among Jews, Catholics and Protestants. ``I notice how one religion says this is right and another saying this is right. I don't want to partake in it.''

The 17-year-old says her upbringing in an ``unorthodox Catholic'' family may also have influenced her. Her parents rarely go to church, and she never went to religious school. She's looked at the Bible, and it ``didn't make too much sense'' to her. ``If I went to Sunday school and they taught me about religion,'' she admits, ``I might still be a practicing Catholic.''

She doesn't broadcast her views at school, but when students find out, it's no big deal. ``If I say, `I'm an atheist,' they say, `Oh, really?' and nod, or they say, `I didn't know that,' '' she said.

A Christian friend did try to argue her out of it. ``She said, `Your life could be better if you had religion.' I said, `Well, it could be, but I don't want to take that road.' '' They're still friends.

Odanga isn't rigid. She still goes to Mass on Christmas; it's a family tradition. And when she has her own family, she won't shut her kids off from religion: ``Just because I'm an atheist doesn't mean I want my kids to be atheists, too.''

But she draws the line at organized school prayer. If it were allowed, ``it would probably make me feel uncomfortable. It's like being the oddball out. Everyone pretty much believes in one God, one religion, while I'm out here saying I don't believe in God, so what am I supposed to do?''

- Philip Walzer ILLUSTRATION: TAMARA VONINSKI/Staff photos

KEYWORDS: SCHOOL PRAYER by CNB