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by Jim Holman.
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The Devil Must Be Laughing

The Archdiocese and Latino Charismatic Ministry

By Jonathan Fierro

Charisma in Missions was the spot. With millions of followers, its connections in high places and a leader with enough personality to put most movie stars to shame, it was the biggest and most powerful lay Catholic Latino ministry in the nation. Countless men and women will credit Charisma in Mission for freeing them from the scourge of drugs, for bringing order into their lives and, most of all, for leading them to a life with God. Some Latino Catholic experts believe that the Pentecostal-style, filled-with-the-spirit Mission may be the most influential ministry in the Southwest.

But Charisma in Mission's run-ins with the Los Angeles archdiocese over the last decade have chopped it down to size, some say. Though the Mission grew without bounds under the former archbishop, Cardinal Timothy Manning, the ministry has waned under Cardinal Roger Mahony, whose administration has distanced itself from the once-powerful institution.

Some observers blame the archdiocese for circulating rumors about Charisma in Missions and its founder, Marilynn Kramar. Others say that the archdiocese has fueled a long-running feud between the Mission and rival ministry El Sembrador (The Sower)-- a grudge which has managed to wear both down in a senseless struggle. (Phone calls asking for comments from the archdiocese for this story were not returned.) What is clear is that the Mission is a far cry from the ministry that once claimed the largest Catholic charismatic center in the United States. From its Commerce headquarters, the Mission has commanded hundreds of prayer groups across the sprawling archdiocese and sent preachers all over the world.

La Mision, as its followers call it by its Spanish name, still has dozens of offices, a gym converted into a hall, a chapel, a television studio, and hundreds of parking spaces in a center called La Porciuncula. Up until recently, the Mission ran a full-time paid staff of over thirty employees, with thousands of volunteers and teachers working on daily theology classes or preparing for their seminal yearly event, the Encuentro Latino, which every July gathers up to 20,000 pilgrims from all over the world for a three-day spiritual party.

But in recent years the Mission has been beset by financial woes. At one point it considered putting its property up for sale. Some observers, who asked not to be identified for fear of retaliation by the archdiocese, said that the damage done to the Mission may be irreparable.

Charisma in Missions was founded in the Hacienda Heights in 1972. In less than ten years, it flooded the sprawling archdiocese with prayer groups, lectors, and Eucharistic ministers. No records or surveys are available, but vocations directors in Spanish-language orders like the Piarists will say that most of their new recruits come from the charismatic movement. Well-known priests like Los Angeles-based Roberto Morales credit Charisma in Missions for their calling.

The leading force behind the Mission is Kramar, who, at 63, is still a striking figure. The daughter of a Pentecostal radio preacher, she converted to Catholicism in 1972 while doing missionary work along with her husband Glenn for the Assemblies of God in Colombia. That same year she returned to Los Angeles, her hometown, where she founded Charisma in Missions with the approval of the archdiocese. With her accordion, the blond, blue-eyed Kramar sang revivalist-style songs and preached in broken Spanish to thousands of immigrants from Mexico and Latin America, who flocked to her events by the thousands.

Believing they are inspired by the Holy Spirit, Latino charismatics often speak in tongues, allegedly perform healings, lead lively guitar-driven services and are certified joy junkies. Ignacio Rivera, the former Los Angeles archdiocesan Hispanic ministry leader, says that the Latino Charismatic movement is tailor-made for the Spanish-speaking masses.

By 1975, Kramar, along with her friend and fellow convert, Esther Julia Garzon, were holding the Encuentro Latino. At first they held it at the San Gabriel Civic Auditorium, but later the event moved to the Shrine Auditorium and then to the Sports Arena. Kramar became friends with Cardinal Timothy Manning, who gave her his blessing. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Charisma in Missions was in charge of the 300-plus prayer groups in the L.A. archdiocese and wielded considerable muscle in hierarchy circles.

Simon Lopez, a sacristy director for Our Lady Queen of Angeles who has worked with hundreds of groups and orders in Los Angeles, says that, while traditional groups like Acción Catolica Juvenil Mexicana (Mexican Catholic Action Youth) or Adoración Nocturna (Nocturnal Adoration), were subtly undermined by progressive priests, there was just no way of stopping the Charisma-led charismatics.

Aurora Rosas, a former high-ranking La Opinion administrative aide who was one of the first to join Charisma in Missions during the 1970s, recalls those days with fondness. Followers would sprout out of nowhere, which was good for the Mission, but made some hierarchy members nervous. "It was the power of the Mission, there were so many in numbers that it was clear that some in the archdiocese feared Marilynn," Rosas said. "They were afraid that, if she wanted to, she could lead an exodus of Latinos out of the Church." Kramar dismisses those fears as ridiculous. She added that more than thirty years of missionary work as a Catholic proves it. "No one has ever come to me to say it to my face," Kramar said. "I wish people would come and tell me personally, but I always hear these whispers behind my back."

In addition, groups like Charisma in Missions and the charismatic movement can also be credited as having partially thwarted the Latino diaspora to evangelical churches, say experts like Jesuit Father Allan Figueroa Deck. Indeed, Kramar has made many converts with the rosary and often goes to ecumenical meetings where, instead of following the common progressive path of getting along, she often makes converts out of fellow non-Catholic participants.

Many observers will agree that the Latino charismatic renewal has played a key role in helping immigrants hold on to their traditional morals, which are frequently destabilized in this country by the frivolous Spanish media. Unlike in their home countries, they do not find help in the relaxed atmosphere of the American Catholic Church.

Charisma in Missions reached its zenith in the late 1980s. Visitors to their Commerce center recall it as a bustling place, where classes were held every day and preachers from all over the world came to the mother ship to grow in their spiritual life. "It was the place where you learned to grow in God," recalled Emmy Canales, a preacher who has held high positions in both Charisma in Missions and El Sembrador. "If you were a charismatic preacher or a leader, you had to learn from the best -- and the best was Charisma in Missions."

But while the Mission was going through its glory years, Kramar was undergoing her darkest moments. Her son plunged into drugs while her husband, Glenn, who upon his conversion had received a special dispensation to become a married priest, joined the Beta Seminary for late vocations in Rome. There, he adopted progressive ideas, began to smoke and drink and, when he returned home on a leave of absence, he became involved with a nun, whom he later married.

The Mission's status as the top charismatic center in the nation was challenged when Noel Diaz, a bearded ex-musician, rose from the ranks of the hundreds of charismatic preachers to lead El Sembrador, a ministry that grew from the streets of Pico Union during the 1980s and found a home at St. Thomas Apostle church. The Diazes (no relation to Noel), who, by all accounts, were an older and saintly couple, also co-led a local prayer group affiliated with El Sembrador. They later left to make way for Noel Diaz, who, with his charming personality and his fiery sermons, catapulted the group to greater heights.

At first Diaz himself often went to the Mission to learn from their top-notch preacher courses or their advanced theology and prayer courses, Canales said. El Sembrador, like most other prayer groups, got help from the Mission's large group of preachers to help build its growing ministry. Once El Sembrador got big enough, Diaz requested a meeting with Kramar, Canales said. But the meeting of the two dons of the charismatic movement was far from being a success. "It seems that Diaz went away with the idea that he was being told that some things needed to change," Canales says. "He went away disappointed." Kramar said that she is not against working with other ministries, but that certain dubious elements or members in El Sembrador had to be let go before things could be worked out between them. Whatever went down in that meeting, things soured between both groups. A feud was born.

Miguel Angel Berrillos, an El Sembrador media communications official who works for the ministry's radio programming, said that, although there may have been some misunderstandings over the years with Charisma in Missions, El Sembrador's goal has never been to compete. There's no such thing as a rivalry.

"It would be good, like St. Paul said, that we would have a saintly jealousy, but there is no such thing," Berrillos said. "Some things may have been taken out of context."

In addition, El Sembrador has through the years reached out to other ministries like the Eucharistic Adoration groups, Berrillos said. He added that, though it has a lot of elements that come from the charismatic renewal, El Sembrador no longer considers itself a charismatic group.

And as for their spectacular growth, Berrillos said that that it is clearly the work of God and the thousands of volunteers. They have a communications ministry, which runs a 24-hour channel that is seen in various Latin American countries, and local television and radio programs that are run by 15 paid staff members, as well as five volunteers.

Berrillos said, proudly, that El Sembrador has always been under ecclesiastical approval. Mahony himself blessed the opening of their communications center in Burbank last year.

It was during the early 1990s, under Cardinal Mahony's administration, said Kramar, that the Hispanic Ministries office helped circulate a rumor that Kramar, who had had her marriage annulled from Glenn Kramar, had a boyfriend. Letters were sent to parish prayer groups saying that they no longer needed to report to Charisma in Missions, which, until that time, had been in charge of them; instead, the archdiocese selected a priest who had no experience in the charismatic world as the leader of the movement.

Though the archdiocese pays lip service to the Latino charismatic renewal, it does not promote it, said a parish prayer group leader close to the archdiocese. In fact, said the group leader, despite the charismatics' tendency to clap their hands and dance during prayer services, progressive hierarchy officials quietly shun them for holding fast to traditional beliefs like the authority of the magisterium and the pope and for promoting devotions like the rosary and Eucharistic adoration.

Though he boasts of being a champion for Latinos, Cardinal Mahony in the last few years has not written a welcoming letter -- despite repeated requests every year -- to pilgrims who flock to the Encuentro Latino from all over the world, Kramar said. She added that Mahony is not the same, wonderful man she once knew, who, as bishop in Stockton, would often come to regional Encuentro Latinos to hear confessions all day and mingle with the people. Still, Kramar said, "I think that if he comes to Encuentro Latino, if he goes to one of the parishes with the prayer groups, he identifies with the music and sees their spirituality. I know he is proud of us. But I can't say I know him anymore. But look, I have his picture in front of me. Always."

It is, perhaps, an ironic twist of fate, that, as some observers believe, the reason that Latinos -- who make-up most of the Catholic population of the Los Angeles archdiocese -- have remained loyal to Mahony, in spite of the recent church scandals, has been largely due to the work of Charisma in Missions. Father Ignacio Rivera, the Jesuit priest who was in charge of the chancery's Hispanic Ministries office until the early 1990s (before it had turned against Charisma in Missions) believes that practically every parish in the Southland has been influenced by the Mission.

Besides ignoring the Mission, the Hispanic Ministries office also gave the nod to El Sembrador. When reporters or other media sources would call the office asking it about the charismatic movement in Los Angeles, the office would lead them to El Sembrador, but would never mention Charisma in Missions. "It was strictly a divide and conquer strategy," said the parish prayer group leader. "Kramar is nobody's puppet and Charisma in Missions had become too big for the archdiocese. On the other hand, the archdiocese is pulling the strings behind El Sembrador. By pitting both groups against each other, the archdiocese makes sure that none of them becomes too powerful."

Kramar fought back by meeting with archdiocesan officials and her accuser from the Hispanic office, who, according to Kramar, backpedaled during the meeting. The monsignor, who held the meeting, made it clear that Kramar was within her rights to have a relationship with a man. "A lot of people thought I was the image of the Immaculate Conception. But my marriage has been annulled and I have the total right to be married again," Kramar said. "But my scandal was nothing compared to theirs [the archdiocese]."

Although the boyfriend matter was settled in the archdiocese, the damage had been done. Beset by problems, the Mission found that El Sembrador would seemingly try to undermine its events by having its own events scheduled almost on the same day, thus forcing the faithful to choose among them. And like corporate raiders, both groups tried to entice the best preachers and leaders from one another. The latest casualty, according to Kramar, was Juan Antonio and Maria Chavez, two of Kramar's longtime leaders that, last summer, left the Mission to work for El Sembrador.

"It's so sad that these two great groups are fighting each other, instead of battling evil in the Latino community," said a parish group leader who asked not to be named out of respect for both groups. "The devil must be laughing at them."

Kramar says that until things are cleared between them, El Sembrador and Charisma in Missions will not join forces again. And despite the hard times, the sun seems to be shining for the venerable Mission again.

The Kramar family patched things up among themselves, and Glenn Kramar (who remains married to the former nun) recently returned to the Mission for a brief stint to work as an administrator. In her autobiography, The Marilynn Kramar Story: Joy Comes in the Morning, Kramar wrote about the high price she has had to pay for doing God's work, but also of her victories.

And once again, the Encuentro Latino is scheduled to be held this year in Los Angeles and in Guadalajara, Mexico, Kramar said. Charismatic leaders from all over the world like Tucson-based Horacio Trujillo and Onesimo Cepeda, the well-known bishop from Ecatepec, Mexico, still pay homage to Charisma in Missions, recognizing it as the mother of the Latino charismatic movement.

And if Kramar's enemies think that she is going away, think again, she said. Her daughter, Kimberly, is poised to follow in her footsteps. And one of her grandchildren is bent on becoming the Mission's administrator and another one is planning to become a priest.

Said Kramar: "We are here to stay."

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