A Homecoming for Odetta : Pop music: Folk singer returns to the scene of her childhood, bringing a message of healing to a largely white, fairly affluent audience at the First A.M.E. Church.

The soundtrack of Los Angeles’ 1992 burning and rebuilding has largely been rap--the urban folk music of today’s civil rights efforts.

With its clang and clamor, rap could hardly be more different aesthetically from the music of Odetta heard at the First A.M.E. Church in the heart of the riot-torn area on Sunday afternoon--folk music that was part of the soundtrack of the ‘50s and ‘60s civil rights struggles.

But Odetta’s gentler, yet forceful demeanor brought to the church--considered by some to be the spiritual center of L.A.’s healing--an audience that would likely be put off by rap.

The largely white, fairly affluent crowd was there as part of the commendably eclectic “Chamber Music in Historic Sites” series sponsored by the Da Camera Society of Mount St. Mary’s College.

For Odetta, 61, this was something of a homecoming. The Alabama-born singer spent much of her childhood in central L.A. before becoming part of the so-called folk revival in which Pete Seeger and the Weavers led the way in reshaping traditional blues and ballads for mass consumption.

Now based in New York and spending much of her time on the international concert trail, she has had little chance to revisit her former home.

The people she entertained Sunday with folk songs and stories and campfire-like sing-alongs ranging from “Kumbayah” to “Amazing Grace” may not have been members of the riot-affected community. But still, Odetta found in the experience a sense of personal rediscovery and continuity.

“Los Angeles is where I discovered folk music,” she said after the performance, sitting in the sanctuary with family and friends who still live in the area.

“I think of where I started and the stuff we’ve gone through and I come back another person. It’s a reminder and encouragement that maybe I’m still on the right path.”

She explained that she doesn’t see her role as an organizer or leader.

“There are people working every day on what I call the firing line, doing things I couldn’t possibly do,” she said in a voice as soft in speech as it is forceful in song.

“When they pull something together, I feel like a support system, whether to do a show to raise money or bring attention to something being done.”

In a rousing introductory message, the Rev. Cecil Murray, the church’s high-profile pastor, welcomed the “guest” audience and invited them to return to First A.M.E. Church to join congregation members in social programs and dialogues.

Ironically, the only interaction Sunday was when congregation members, exiting after midday services, passed the arriving concertgoers.

But the purpose on this occasion was music, not dialogue, although Odetta, in the interview, said she believes music can be as strong a motivator as any discussion group.

“Music alone doesn’t solve anything, but it can be healing,” she said. “And it can give you the motivation and strength to carry on . . . to fight city hall . . . or whatever we need to fight.”