In stark contrast to the sunlit morning ambiance of the campus Jittery Joe’s, two darkly clad members of industrial/new wave band Witness the Apotheosis are trying to pin down their religion.

Bleary-eyed from a late night performance at Tasty World, Zachary Vaudo and Terance Schmidt strike up a brotherly rapport.

In a mock Don LaFontaine voice, Schmidt poses the hyperbolic situation: “In a world of full of uncertainty, there is good and there is evil and there is no ground in between.”

Vaudo steps in. “We don’t really fall into that. We are the invisible ground in between.”

‘We’ are the pagans.

Shrouded in stereotypes and vilified for centuries by mainstream religion, paganism is an oft-misunderstood label assigned to fringe religions that adhere to non-traditional or archaic deities.

This Sunday, Athens Pagan Pride hopes to not only dispel the myths and misconceptions, but also unite local pagans with a pride festival at Bishop Park.

“We want to work on community outreach and improve tolerance,” said Christian Avalon, local area coordinator for the festival.

Easier said than done. Members and practitioners of pagan beliefs are as scattered as they are varied.

“It’s very difficult to get 10 pagans to do the same thing, let alone all,” said Schmidt, lead singer of Apotheosis. “The world will never have to fear a pagan uprising because half of us will be late and the other half will want to do something different.”

Avalon, a 36-year-old senior majoring in sociology, ran into such issues in organizing the festival.

“‘Pagan’ is a term that encompasses so many religions that sometimes, there are cross-cultural barriers,” she said. She also noted the term’s stigma.

Avalon originally intended to band together local pagans to supplement the larger festival in Atlanta.

But when that event was cancelled, she decided to host one in Athens.

To her relief, she found a receptive audience.

“I’m pleasantly surprised and glad there are open-minded people in the world,” Avalon said. “The atmosphere for pagans is much better than before.”

However, her endeavors were not embraced by all. She recalls a select few who crumpled her fliers when told what organization she represented.

“As far as the negativism goes, I don’t like it, but it happens,” said Vaudo, a junior majoring in public relations. “Over the centuries, somebody has to be the scapegoat.”

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Despite the possibility of discrimination, many individuals turn to paganism when traditional religions dissatisfy.

According to Harvard University’s “The Pluralism Project,” pagans in the U.S. number anywhere from 200,000 to 1,000,000 depending on the term’s definition.

A self-described neo-pagan, Avalon said she discovered her religious identity through personal research.

“I have been a spiritualist my entire life and always felt that the best way to know if a religion is right for you is to try it out. What I find to be true, I keep, and what I find to be false, I discard,” she said.

According to her, one of the definitive traits that separates neo-paganism from other forms is that religion is seen as a “self authority” not reliant on canonized doctrines to solidify its worthiness.

Both Vaudo and Schmidt also discovered paganism on their own.

Schmidt likened the accrual of pagan converts to the Hell’s Angels adage, “We don’t recruit them, we recognize them.’”

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Seeing no need to preach, Sunday’s festival will be more like a family reunion, Schmidt said. It will feature food and live music courtesy of Witness The Apotheosis and Atlanta rock band, Royal Family.

For Maureen Duffy-Boose, secretary of the Pagan Pride Project, the organization behind similar festivals across the nation, these events help inform non-Pagans.

“Many communities don’t even know what a pagan is,” she said. “Many places use that word to mean, ‘someone with no ethics, morals or manners, someone asocial who would hurt my community.’

Avalon mentioned the same issue.

“There is the misconception of all pagans being Satan worshippers or people who like to dance naked around a fire out in the forest,” she said.

Yet Avalon enjoys turning the cliches on their heads by including a witch cackle contest in the festival.

“We like to make fun of the stereotypes,” she said. “We can laugh at ourselves.”

In the end, the prevailing ideology of paganism is inherent in the festival participants’ attitudes – ones of tolerance and mutual respect.

“I have my own ideas of how the world around me works,” Schmidt said. “I don’t feel the need for everyone to believe the way I believe.”