Miracle Workers

St. Agatha Catholic Church is packed to the rafters this Sunday morning.

A sea of upturned faces fills the wooden pews as hundreds of parishioners close eyes, grab hands, sway and sing, their voices swelling in the simple sanctuary.

After years of flagging attendance, the small Mid-City church on a grimy stretch of Adams Boulevard is celebrating its resurrection, a rebirth powered by the faith of the African American community, a growing number of Latino worshipers and an infusion of white families from the Westside.

“People are coming out to this area and discovering it’s a holy land,” said Father Ken Deasy, the priest who helped bring them together.

Seven years ago, the parishioners at St. Agatha looked around at the empty pews and started praying.

The largely African American congregation that held together the once-thriving church was getting older. There was friction and resentment as a growing number of Latino immigrants moved to the area. Talk spread of St. Agatha merging with a nearby church.

Please God, they prayed, send us more people. Keep our church alive.

Then, they say, a miracle happened.

Deasy, a charismatic young pastor from Santa Monica, was assigned to the parish in January 1996. The self-described “blond and blue-eyed surfer boy” knew little about the community, but went right to work.

He held a town hall meeting, affirming the work of the older parishioners. Other activities followed: church barbecues with Deasy playing chef, and weekly movie nights on the patio outside the church.

And dozens of parishioners from St. Monica Catholic Church followed Deasy to his new post. Across town, in a worn neighborhood few of them had ever visited, they discovered a spirit that kept them coming back.

The word soon spread to people at other churches. Soon churchgoers started coming from Temecula, Santa Clarita, Burbank, Beverly Hills.

“It’s really reverse white flight around here on Sundays,” Deasy said.

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The Westside parishioners who came for Deasy stayed for the warm community they discovered at the 75-year-old church. They joined the choir, the parish council and the church staff. Now new and old church members attend each other’s birthday parties and barbecues. English and Spanish speakers have bilingual gatherings to learn from one another.

Sunday mornings--when about 1,600 people attend four standing-room only Masses--testify to St. Agatha’s new life.

The 10 a.m. service is noisy and high-spirited. On this Sunday, Deasy strode throughout the church during his sermon, singling church members out for praise and cracking jokes that made the congregation laugh.

The gospel choir joined hands and led the crowd in an electrifying crescendo of song, backed by musicians playing drums, guitar, keyboard and trumpet.

“Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!” the parishioners belted out.

Light streamed through the stained glass windows, richly hued in blue and red, as young and old, black and white, got to their feet and sang. People danced in the aisles. They swayed in the choir loft. They clapped in the foyer.

The gospel choir, which has been a long-standing tradition at the church, has swelled with the new members.

“This is the most amazing place,” said Michael Anthony Perna, a musician from Hollywood, tapping his feet to the music. “The first time I was here, tears were running down my face. It goes across race, gender, socioeconomic lines. It’s the way it should be.”

Longtime church members said the influx of people has been a blessing.

“There was a large community of people who had been praying because we seriously believed that there was something very special at this church that needed to be shared,” said Joanne Lombard, who sings in the church choir. “It’s been like a gift from God.”

When the call came to go to St. Agatha, Deasy was preaching at St. Monica Catholic Church. Before that, he had been at a church in West Hills.

“I said, ‘Are you kidding? Are you out of your mind?’ ” he recalled. “I thought it was war-torn, violent, ugly--a place that no one wanted to be.”

On his first day, the church was robbed and all the audio equipment taken. The first words he was greeted with when he walked in were: “Lo siento, Padre. I’m sorry, Father. Please don’t leave.”

But soon, Deasy said, he was moved by the faith and warmth of the community, a place where many struggled against enormous odds.

“I discovered family out here,” he said. “I didn’t see poverty, I saw huge wealth. I didn’t see despair, I saw future. A lot of times you’re dealing with people so glad to be getting through the week. There is more willingness to work through struggles than avoid them.”

The parishioners from St. Monica who followed Deasy were awed.

“The people there blew our mind from the moment we got out of the car,” said Deborah Shippen, an actress who lives in Santa Monica. “We could not pass anyone without someone saying hello, welcome, please come back. We have been Catholics all our lives and we have never experienced the warmth of St. Agatha’s.” Before coming to St. Agatha, Shippen had only been south of the Santa Monica Freeway once: when she came out to help clean up after the 1992 riots.

Now her husband is on the parish council and she regularly attends bible study. They have decided that in the next 10 years, they will not move anywhere farther than an hour from the church.

“St. Agatha is living proof that people can love each other for their similarities and tolerate cultural differences,” she said. “It’s what gives me hope every day for this world. My hope is that intolerance will fade away because of churches like ours.”

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The strained relationship between the African American and Latino parishioners also has improved, church members said, as they attend bilingual services and social get-togethers. Reflecting the changed demographics in the neighborhood, the church is now about half Latino.

“This is the greatest church in the world,” said Juanita Rubalcaba, a Crenshaw resident who has attended St. Agatha services for more than 40 years. “There was resentment at first. But little by little, we have learned that we are united. We are one family.”

Longtime church members said the mix of people at St. Agatha has created a unique environment they hope will spread to other communities.

“It’s like a marriage made in heaven,” said Linda Maultsby, who lives two blocks from the church. “We wanted a multicultural experience where the love of God could shine through. You find out you have more in common than not. It’s beautiful.”