DOES THIS CHURCH HAVE TOO MUCH SPIRIT? NEIGHBORS COMPLAIN ABOUT NOISY SERVICES.

Byline: Michael Coit Staff Writer

Ministers with microphones moved among the pews one recent Sunday at Iglesia Apostolica de North Hollywood and delivered forceful Bible readings punctuated by testimonials.

More than 200 congregants sang hymns inspiring some to shake tambourines and others to clap loudly. The rhythms backed music from an amplified electronic keyboard, guitar and trumpet.

Inside the church, the sound is uplifting. Outside, it's a nuisance, say residents who say the noise reverberates throughout the neighborhood.

Love thy neighbor is the message people on Lamkins Street want to convey to their noisy neighbor.

But church leaders, who lease the sanctuary from Sun Valley United Methodist Church and its Tongan congregation, said they have toned down services as much as they can.

City officials said they are reluctant to crack down on the church because of legal issues arising from regulating religion. This place of celebration now has become a center of controversy - and a precedent-setting case for Los Angeles.

``Churches are still subject to the nuisance abatement provisions,'' said Horace Tramel, an associate zoning administrator for the city Planning Department. ``There can be issues as far as practicing their religion that may be subject to constitutional protections.

``It certainly is a sensitive use,'' he noted. ``It's not a liquor store, prostitution or a motel.''

What began as a dispute with the Tongan Methodist congregation over singing and gatherings in the parsonage down the street became a greater battle with the larger Spanish-language congregation.

``We have a pretty lively church,'' said the Rev. Carlos Alvarez, the lead pastor. ``It's part of our devotion. Worship is an expression of gratitude, and we use music because the Bible talks about using musical instruments. It wouldn't be the same without it.''

Police have responded to neighbors' complaints nearly 40 times since the spring of 1997. Officers have noted noise and traffic problems, but church leaders have responded, and no citations have been issued, according to reports.

Residents remain upset.

``You can hear it at the end of the block. I have a friend who has to close up her house to hear the television,'' said Frances Engle, who is leading the neighbors' battle.

``They say it's their religious right,'' Engle said. ``They don't seem to be Christian enough to respect neighbors.''

Resolving conflict fails

Mediation brokered by the office of City Councilman Joel Wachs in July 1998 brought a respite. But within months, leaders from the two churches and the neighbors were charging each other with not honoring the agreement.

The neighbors sought relief in small claims court in May. But the judge declined, without explanation, to impose any restrictions or award monetary damages.

Next, neighbors sought help from the city Office of Zoning Administration.

City ordinances were amended two years ago to include churches, temples and other religious uses in laws against public nuisances. Since then, the city has set restrictions on churches, including that they keep doors and windows closed and turning down amplified music, Tramel said.

But there are limits.

If church leaders have controlled noise, Tramel said constitutional protections limit restrictions on services, such as limiting evening services or banning music. Closing the church is not a likely option.

The zoning process and appeals can run a year or more. City officials have visited the neighborhood, and police are preparing a report, but no public hearing has been set.

Tension heightened

With the churches and neighbors showing no signs of yielding in the meantime, the conflict won't end anytime soon.

``Both churches keep saying, It's our culture, it's our culture. They think they have all the rights. They will not respect us,'' said Engle, speaking for the 11 church neighbors involved in the fight. ``These people have to be forced. They won't cooperate.''

Heightening the tension are charges of racial bias in an increasingly diverse part of the Valley.

``They still complain, and I believe nothing will satisfy them unless we are out of there,'' said the Rev. Sione Veikoso, minister of the Methodist church. ``It's not the services, it's not the music, it's the people that come to the church.

``It's really unfortunate to see that in the Valley.''

Such comments bother residents on the block-long street of small homes with fenced yards.

John Clark, a retired Lockheed worker, moved with his wife onto Lamkins Street when it was still a dusty road with only three homes and the original Methodist church in 1948. Clark said he has a quarrel with churches that are noisy and create traffic problems, not with the Valley's changing faces.

``We like this area. We've got some friends still on the street,'' he said.

``I respect the rights of a church, but they're not being neighbors like the churches we used to know,'' Clark said. ``To have it suddenly go this way was quite bad.

``It was a quiet neighborhood. They just kind of took over.''

Church changes

Methodists have been congregating for services on the corner of Lamkins and Sunland Boulevard for more than 50 years.

The current sanctuary, built in 1962, recalls a different time.

Architectural features of the modern style popular then include the wood beam roof, bowed inward and resembling a grounded sailing ship upside down. There are rounded, high-backed wood pews and a circular communion rail with a rounded wood cross in the middle.

The capacity for 200 suggests the congregation's size before members aged or moved from the area. Their numbers dwindled until the Tongan Methodists took over in 1991.

Veikoso said there are 15 Tongan families, including some 70 children, in the slowly growing congregation. ``The future of the church looks great. That is, of course, if the neighbors will be neighbors.''

While their services aren't bothersome, the Tongans clashed with neighbors by holding choir practices and late night social gatherings in the parsonage.

Veikoso acknowledged they were loud and disruptive. Those activities were moved to the church under the mediation agreement.

But neighbors still complain about large Tongan gatherings on the church grounds, including an annual fund-raising feast in November that draws more than 100 people.

Neighbors said they also are frustrated that the Methodists don't exercise more control over the larger, louder Apostolic church.

``We need the amplification so you can be heard. We don't think we're that loud,'' Alvarez said.

There's still too much noise and traffic for Clark and his neighbors.

``If they could keep it down to a small roar, that wouldn't be so bad,'' he said. ``But you can hear them down the block, and you have them three or four times a week.''

CAPTION(S):

2 photos

Photo: (1 -- color) ) Ana Alvarez feels the spirit during a service at Iglesia Apostolica de North Hollywood, where singing and amplified music are heard.

(2) The Rev. Carlos Alvarez, pastor at the Iglesia Apostolica de North Hollywood, delivers a sermon.

David Sprague/Staff Photographer