It appears from this chapter that the theme of blurry lines of identification is a theme that manifests itself in every aspect of the Black and Jewish communities of Crown Heights. Not only do the individual communities struggle with self-identity and interactive identity, but also they even struggle with geographic identity. Essentially, the “personality” of a neighborhood is defined by the culture of its inhabitants. In a neighborhood like Crown Heights we find to distinct communities, each with their own identity crises, living in tension with one another. It’s no wonder that Goldschmidt struggles to define what and where exactly is the neighborhood.

When reading Goldschmidt’s general review of the history of shifting ethnic communities in Crown Heights, I got the impression that the shift in Crown Heights from being a predominantly white, Jewish community to a Black, Afro-Caribbean and African American community, seemed natural. “White Flight” to the suburbs was a common occurrence in the sixties and seventies. What was unusual about Crown Heights, however, was that there was an active force going against the tide of natural ethnic shifts on the part of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Had the Rebbe not instructed the people in his community to stay where they were, the Lubavitcher Chassidim likely would have left with the rest of the whites and Jews in Crown Heights. Since the vast majority of Crown Heights had once been Jewish, the remaining Chassidish residents never adjusted their identification of the geographical borders of the neighborhood. Even the Jewish part of ton shrank to a mere six-block radius, the residents nevertheless held on to the old picture of Crown Heights.

The tension and confusion of geographic borders in Crown Heights continues to reflect the tensions between the two communities on a socioeconomic level. I found Goldschmidt’s explanation of the mixed-community (that is, lower income families living among higher income families) to be reminiscent of the ways in which the Blacks and the Jews in Crown Heights relate to one another. He writes that, “Jews in Crown Heights seem to be a bit worse off…than their Black neighbors” and yet everyone assumes otherwise, due to the spatial correlation between Jews and wealth, and probably some Jewish stereotypes as well. Though rather than assuming that geographic and racial/religious misunderstandings just happen to appear to parallel one another in Crown Heights, I would sooner argue that the geographic confusion of Crown Heights is one of many factors that lends itself to general misunderstandings of race and religion.

In dissecting a conflict in which each side views the situation as unilateral, Goldschmidt broadens the perspective, inviting the reader to rethink the very terms of the conflict. Goldschmidt argues that race and religion, which are ambiguous yet sensitive constructs, hold extremely personal definitions and in exploring the concept of diversity and tolerance, more attention must be paid to the subjective definitions in order to really understand such constructs. Goldschmidt introduces the idea that the way one interacts with the present is based upon one’s interpretation of and experience of the past. In the Crown Heights conflict, ascribing the term “riot” or “pogrom” to the violence was extremely indicative of each group’s perspective and identity. The black community was extremely sensitive to white preferential treatment, and from their perspective, they saw a series of events blind to the mind of the Jew, that suggested racism. The Jews, on the other hand, came from a history of religious persecution and associated their present situation with the pogroms of the past, consciously oblivious to the racial constructs, but perhaps subconsciously having imbibed some of the white perspectives of blacks of the time. Thus each side unilaterally blamed the other for the violence, resting the cause for the violence on constructs with which they associated, creating a root misunderstanding.

I found it extremely interesting that the blacks in Crown Heights saw the Jews merely as “Whites,” while the Jews barely thought of themselves in those terms. I myself often struggle in filling out forms that provide check-boxes for identity constructs that trap me in the box of “White” (as I am certainly not going to check off Latino, Asian, or even “Other” although I contemplate that) when I see that as only a peripherally identifying factor. That the community outside from “white” viewed the Jews as dominantly that which they think of themselves as only peripherally created a conflict based more on misunderstanding, on differing definitional terms.

After reading the introduction and chapter one, I also thought that perhaps the blacks’ identification of themselves based on race might not be mutually exclusive to defining Jews based on religion. Blacks might have felt looked down upon by more privileged groups, which may not have all been constructed along racial lines. That they were relegated to lower social statuses does not necessarily have to mean that the constructs of the various groups in higher social statuses are purely racial. I wonder how these blacks would have related with the Haitian blacks, or others who lived along more privileged lines. I also wonder what involvement and/or accountability the Italian whose car crashed into Lifsch’s ever carried through this whole situation.

Henry Goldschmidt presents a very interesting complex among the residents of Crown Heights. It is not surprising that both the Afro-Carribeans and the Lubavitch Hasidim saw the events of August 19, 1991 with a different perspective or even historical historical narrative, as the saying goes: “There is always two sides of the story.” The larger context is that each understood the events through a different lens: Race on the one hand and religion on the other.  Goldschmidt wants to make the claim that in modern day America, race was the most important distinction between groups. Even if it was not actually the most important difference, race was “superimposed (pg. 33)” on all categories. Therefore, according to his logic, the fact that the Lubavitch Hasidim disrupted this idea because they believed their identity was religious and not racial was the cause of the tension in Crown Heights. This is not a fair conclusion to make. The Lubavitch Hasidim saw themselves as the chosen people, but because they were such an insular community, conflicts with their neighbors should have been avoided. The Afro-Carribeans were Gentiles, but other than that, the Jews should not have been particularly bothered by how their neighbors lived their lives, and Afro-Carribeans should have had no problems with the Jews.

Therefore, there has to be a bigger picture here. How did this tension escalate into the violence that occurred in August 1991? Yes, the Lubvaitch Hasidim had very involved and unique religious practices, but what Goldschmidt fails to mention is how these beliefs and ideals bothered or contradicted the Afro-Carribeans way of life.  Nonetheless, Goldschmidt makes a very good point without going through a specific checklist of grievances that the Afro-Carribean community did to the Lubvaitch Hasidim and that the Hasidim did the Afro-Carribeans. The tension was inherent in the idea that these two groups of people had very different views of the world. It was not just specific acts or even different perceptions, but “the fundamental, and universal, process through which culturally specific narrative forms define the taken-for-granted contours of social reality (pg. 39).” In this reality, both Blacks and Jews are minorities, just in different ways. The Blacks are a racial minority, while the Jews are a religious minority. However, it is these differing elements that give each group their identity which is why Blacks care about race and not religion, and Jews care about religion and not race. The term Black-Jewish difference perfectly sums up this phenomenon, as Black and Jewish are not the same type of category, but that is exactly the point. Two differing ideologies, that may overlap at moments, but cannot be easily brushed aside.

Crown Heights – a neighborhood of Brooklyn in which, within just hours, two lives were tragically taken – and many more were injured in the violence that followed. However, in Henry Goldschmidt’s work Race and Religion Among the Chosen People of Crown Heights, Goldschmidt argues that this event was far more complex than merely tension between opposing groups.  The violence was caused by a long history of misunderstanding and fundamentally different ways in how exactly each group viewed themselves as related to the other.

Goldschmidt’s argument interests me because we tend to portray concepts in the world as black and white, when in reality there are various areas of gray. It is just not possible to classify anything in such simplistic terms.  Although it would be easy to say that the Hasidim and the Afro-Caribbean groups disliked each other due to cultural differences, Goldschmidt argues that there are deeper issues at play – the two groups do not even share the same basis in classifying their differences. For example, the Afro-Caribbean tends to make the distinction based on race, grouping the Hasidim within a bigger group of Caucasians – in effect, black vs. white. The Hasidim, however, view the differences in the context of religion. They view themselves as the chosen ones and the others as “Gentiles.” They make the distinction between religion rather than race, and this fundamental misunderstanding of each other could certainly be the foundations of longstanding tension.

Another aspect that I noted is Goldschmidt’s commentary on our limited view of “diversity.” I agree with his argument that instead of truly celebrating diversity, we merely tolerate it (though I also wonder if realistically that is the only possible solution). I found it interesting how he describes how we compartmentalize diversity into pathways that are more comfortable for us – such as how we “celebrate” diversity by ordering foods of different cuisines. I am curious as to what Goldschmidt’s solution is to truly be more accepting of different cultures and backgrounds.

Elizabeth McAllister’s text “The Madonna of 115^th Street Revisited: Vodou and Haitian Catholicism in an Age of Transnationalism,” provides an epilogue of sorts to Orsi’s text. This piece picks up where the book left off, centering on the same community with now only 750 Italian residents left. In the stead of the once entirely Italian Catholic neighborhood, a wave of Haitian immigrants with a new method of worship, although of the same Madonna statue, is the focus. The church, the very same described in Orsi’s book, has transformed from a place almost exclusively Italian where woman had once crawled on hands and knees up to the alter to plead for a reversal of their fortune, to instead “a center of spiritual power where [Haitian immigrants] will be welcome.” The ceremony once almost exclusively made up of Caucasian attendees has become “a sea of coffee-, mahogany-, and cinnamon-colored bodies,” “a multiethnic social stage that is vastly more diverse.”

This article provides a look at a changing landscape in the aftermath of a community in which as their prosperity increased, the original Italian occupants left their first home in New York behind for “middle-class suburban communities with lawns and fences.” The migration of these people is extremely significant as it makes way for a new wave of immigrants to come to the United States, people who also, like their Italian predecessors, allow Harlem to become a cultural and religious center and connection to the countries they left behind. The Haitian people parallel the Italians of East Harlem in many ways, among which is the fact that people travel from all over the United States to attend the “Fête du Notre Dame du Mount Carmel.” The Haitian fête, which like the Italian festa is a religious celebration during which entire families flock to the church in special attire, make themselves look extra presentable, and come to the shrine of the virgin to worship, even follows the schedule of the original festa. The fête in fact is still the very same festa organized by remaining Italian priests of the church, now complete with masses offered hourly in every language from English to French, Latin to Spanish, and lastly, but certainly not least, Haitian Creole to Italian.

While candles are still a large part of the ceremony, a new twist on the worship of the Madonna in this ceremony is the use of guns and firecrackers to “heat up” the prayers. This piece tells of a mother whose child was born with illness. Just like an Italian mother would do in the same circumstance, this mother prays to the Madonna and when her child makes a full recovery she wears blue and white, the Haitian colors of the ceremony, every day until her communion. The similarities of the two services are easy to pick up on, however things like vodou and the belief of the Madonna being able to possess those attending the church. Their worship may be different but this piece centers on a new wave of people who find solace in the Madonna statue, her human hair a symbol of strength just as it was for the Italians who came before these Haitian immigrants. McAllister shows us that Italian Harlem has become the home for latinos and Hatians and people from all different areas who still follow in the footsteps of the people who paved the streets before them in their devotion and dedication to their reverence of the Madonna.

While most of the description of the festa centers on Italian Harlem and its dwellers, Orsi makes a brief yet fascinating sojourn detour in which he describes how the festa fit into American history. Religious authority in Italian Harlem wanted recognition from the Vatican, and the immigrants themselves wanted recognition as part of New York’s longstanding fabric. Father Tofini’s appeal to the Pope stated that the Madonna deserved a crown because she was of “longstanding antiquity”—even though the festa was only two decades old at that point. According to Tofini, this was barely a generation by European standards but was an era by American ones.

This got me thinking about how we view our own history. Americans have the most abbreviated history of perhaps any country. We tend to disregard Native Americans and Spanish colonization and begin with the English settlers of Jamestown. This gives us barely five hundred years to work with, and is probably the reason why we tend to view very small periods of time as being entire epochs. More importantly, it is probably why we develop such a personal connection to our political figures. The reason we constantly reference the Founding Fathers in our political discourse is that they did not die all that long ago. In our language, in the way we constantly ask ourselves what the Founding Fathers would have wanted, we portray them not as founding legislators but as scarcely deceased grandparents. Tofini was right. The American conception of time is very zoomed in, affixed to details, able to extrapolate huge themes and epic struggles from short amounts of time.

The other thing which interested me was Orsi’s idea of a female spiritual hierarchy. The Italian immigrants were obsessed with the image of the suffering mother, and they sought to live that image whenever possible. To be a woman, married or unmarried, was then to experience constant pressure and to be expected to endure it for the sake of the domus and the community. This, more than anything else, was the ideal trait of a woman in Italian Harlem: the ability to suffer unceasingly without complaint. It is strange that the Madonna, who provided the template by which the community subjected women to such pressure, also served as a spiritual friend to those same women.

During our last class discussion, we focused on the complexities of power in Italian Harlem – what is power, and who truly wields it? Throughout The Madonna of 115th Street, Robert Orsi continually suggests the domus, itself, was what retained power over the residents of Italian Harlem. Although I largely agree with his conclusion – it is true that most decisions made in both the public and private lives of those living in Italian Harlem centered around the strengthening of the domus – I feel Orsi overlooks the fact that the domus (and the power attributed to it) was inherently a creation of the Italians – an attempt to exert power in defining themselves in America.

What struck me from the latest reading, then, was the way in which the men and women of Italian Harlem relied on the Madonna to both maintain the power of the domus and escape from the limitations of the domus and immigrant life. During the festa, women found freedom in expressing their devotion to the Madonna and marching alongside the statue. As Orsi states, “Once a year… the power of women… was publicly proclaimed.” Yet, female restrictions were still present – men upheld their public facades as all-powerful by retaining authoritative roles in the event and at church. Thus, women identified with the Madonna, and turned to her for strength and consolation when faced with the “terrible fragility and power of their reputations as men defined them.”

Moreover, both men and women felt powerless against their dependence on labor. The festa served as a brief escape from the trials of immigrant life: it held no time limits and troubles were forgotten. In celebrating the Madonna, the men and women of Italian Harlem were also given opportunities for religious sacrifice – an integral part of Italian Catholicism. Although not apparent at first, this too, was an assertion of power. By choosing to suffer, the men and women of Italian Harlem convinced themselves that they had control over their lives, even when bound by social or economic constraints. Furthermore, ” by freely assuming suffering, as opposed to merely enduring pain… [they] were declaring something of their pride and sense of self-worth.” Here, however, Orsi notes the possibility of such religious sacrifice as masochistic self-suffering in response to repressed anger towards the limitations of the domus.

Though I am unsure if I agree with Orsi, I recognize the reasoning behind the Italians’ dependance on the Madonna. Devotion to the Madonna and religious sacrifice in her name served to give meaning to the suffering endured by the residents of Italian Harlem in their defined roles as men and women within the domus and roles as immigrants outside the domus. Although I understand that the men and women of Italian Harlem had little to no control over their financial obstacles, I believe they maintained power over the domus and therefore, had the ability to change their society – after all, it was they who had created the domus and bestowed upon it such power. Whether or not they truly wished to redefine the domus or recognized their ability to do so, however, remains another question. As Orsi notes in his example of a woman who lit a candle for the Madonna every week out of gratitude for her son’s newfound employment, her sacrifice “bound her tightly to the tradition which insisted that women must suffer on behalf of their families…” Ultimately, her actions “contributed to maintaining the culture that bore down on her,” and similarly, other men and women of Italian Harlem continued, through their choices, to recreate a society they both revered and despised.