Last Saturday, a group of wallflowers, mostly in their twenties, lined the auditorium of Allston's International Community Church (ICC). The event had all the markings of an awkward youth group mixer, from the empty checkerboard floor to the folk singer on stage. But the attendees weren't there to pray. They were there to eat.

It was the Launch Party for the Boston Vegan Association (BVA), and tables sat covered with food donations from members and local businesses. The offerings formed a cornucopia of goodies -- pizza, chili, cupcakes, chocolate peanut butter cups, and cookies -- that pointedly demonstrated that you can pig out even if you don't eat pig (or pig by-products).

For many in BVA, eating vegan is a form of activism. The specifics of the arguments vary, but members share a common belief that raising animals for food is unjust. Opting out of omnivory is a means of protest, which might be enough for some vegans. But BVA has bigger plans.

"We are here to make Boston a more vegan-friendly place. To veganize Boston, so to speak," Eric Prescott, BVA director and co-founder announced from the stage.

Prescott, who has been vegan for five and a half years, is a newcomer to Boston. He hails from the vegan-friendly climes of California, and, in the Hub, he found a lot of vegans but not a lot of organization. (Boston has a Vegetarian Society, but BVA is the first group dedicated to vegans.)

"I saw that there was a void in Boston of activism that created a community around veganism as a way of life," he said. And, so, with Kristin Thomas, he founded BVA to fill that void.

"The Revolution started in Boston," said Antaris Duffey, the BVA spokeswoman. "Why can't the Vegan Revolution?"

The club acts as a social hub and a support group for its vegan members, as well as a training ground for future activism. BVA hosts bike rides, apple pickings, holiday dinners and movie nights. There is a vegan knitting group on the way. For recent converts, BVA offers "Vegan Buddies," volunteers with advice about the social stigma, the family difficulties, and the bewilderment of grocery shopping that can come with the lifestyle. ("It's kind of like having a sponsor in A.A.," Prescott explained.) And the club offers training in public speaking to make its membership into effective evangelists.

The benefits of such an organization can be easily lost on the omnivorous. "It's surreal," said Matthew Feinberg, a vegan of ten years. "Usually, I know when I share food with other people, it's a one-way street. But here, I'm finishing food on everybody's plate. It's like heaven."

BVA aims to increase the number of plates available to vegans like Feinberg. Activists in the group work with local restaurants to develop vegan menu options, identifying simple steps chefs can take to turn existing specialties into vegan delicacies. There's a vegan restaurant guide in the works and plans to affix a special sticker to BVA-approved restaurants, saving Boston's vegans the task of scouring over menus for hidden animal products.

The group also hopes to convince more people to adopt a vegan diet. Its members, like many vegans, believe in the dismantling of what they call "animal exploitation" -- the cultivation of animals for human use. They liken veganism to the Abolition movement and believe that animal exploitation will eventually come to be seen as a widespread social evil, as slavery has.

But, unlike the angry and militant vegan of popular imagination, BVA is not likely to badger an omnivore. "You never get anywhere with people by telling them how awful they are," said Prescott, who has handsome features and an easy manner that allow him to chat casually and confidently with strangers. BVA emphasizes positive messages. Its members would much rather tell you why veganism is moral, healthy and easy than why eating meat is evil.

"I like the approach of BVA," said Emma Roaman, who, as a holistic health counselor, has a professional opinion about what you should eat. "It's similar to my approach. They don't use scare tactics like showing people pictures of animals [being abused]."

On the ICC stage, Evan Greer, a folk singer whose hard consonants and warbling vowels recall the artist Mountain Goats, had launched into a spoken word rant. The crowd had filled out the room somewhat, but Greer was finding it hard to get a reaction with his screed. Everyone was too busy talking about the food.

"This guy is a big activist, more so than the other bands," said Chris O'Neill, who served triple duty that night, booking the bands (all of whom were, if not vegan, at least vegetarian), organizing the event and doing sound. (He was also responsible for a robust three bean chili that won the Bostonist seal of approval.)

O'Neill is another proponent of a friendly BVA "We don't want to push anything on anybody. There's no pressure to take on our views or whatever," he said. He sees activism as a many faceted activity and thinks that true believers can find many ways to help out. A short, bearded man with straight black hair, friendly eyes, tight torn jeans and a pair of torn canvas shoes, O'Neill doesn't do a lot of street proselytizing.

"I mean, I have a tattoo on my neck," he said. "People don't look at me and say, 'This guy is a credible source.'" Instead, he organizes events, and he is good at it. "I believe I can make more progress doing something like this," he said, indicating the Launch Party.

The Party was a success, when people finally got around to milling. The common ground of veganism was the social lubricant (there was coffee but no alcohol). People traded conversion stories, which often involved a vegan girlfriend or boyfriend. ("PETA encourages interdietary dating," Feinberg claimed.) The club members were positive, approachable, and friendly, attributes that may have had something to do with the many forms of chocolate available.

It may have been the musty church air, holding still against the plaster walls at the ICC, but the words that came to mind to describe the Boston Vegan Association were religious ones. Zeal. Conversion. Evangelist. Communion. Martyr. ("Every time someone gives you shit about being vegan, it just kind of hardens your resolve," said Dan Fokine, a horticulturalist.) BVA is a secular organization (the group officially subscribes to the Hindu idea of "Ahimsa," or "nonviolence," but in a specifically nonreligious way), but for some members, it fills a spiritual role.

"It's like a religion," said Duffey. "People who are around each other with the same beliefs. It's reassuring and it makes you feel good."

Boston Vegan Association is a member of the International Humanities Center. Vegans and those contemplating veganism are encouraged to join. Membership costs $25 a year and includes a t-shirt.