Communities and Enclaves: Where Jews, Christians, Hindus, and Muslims Share the Neighborhoods
Lowell W. Livezey
An afternoon walk along Devon Avenue on Chicago’s Far North Side gives one a tangible sense of that abstract concept “social diversity.” Devon offers a glimpse of the neighborhoods that make up the community areas of Rogers Park and West Ridge (known locally as West Rogers Park), which we discuss here together simply as “Rogers Parks.” The area lies between Lake Michigan on the east and the North Shore Channel on the west at the northern boundary of the City of Chicago, about two and a half by two miles in size. Its total 1990 population of 125,000 showed a slight increase from ten years previous, a fact that could be claimed by very few Chicago neighborhoods. The positive population trend was due to a combination of immigration (34 percent of the residents are foreign born)and in-migration from other parts of the city (mostly blacks and Hispanics moving to a better neighborhood). The residents of these neighborhoods represent an extraordinarily wide range of the racial and ethnic groups, social and economic classes, and religious faiths of the Chicago metropolitan area. And because many small shops along Devon are operated by the local residents and cater to them, the street provides a colorful lens on the cultures of the people who live nearby.
Research by the Religion in Urban America Program at the University of Illinois at Chicago, from 1993 to 1998, provides the basis for my analysis of the religious dimension of local culture during that time. I argue that cultural innovation by religious organizations has encouraged the formation and maintenance of ethnoracial enclaves, which in turn characterize the diversity of Rogers Parks.
The walk eastward from Kedzie Avenue along Devon is a good way to enter the discussion. In the segment between Kedzie and California Avenues, which is officially designated Golda Meir Boulevard, Jewish residents can easily find most of the supplies needed for observance of the halachah (Jewish law) as interpreted by Orthodox rabbis. Here one can buy a wide variety of kosher groceries, choosing among alternatives that have been approved by different Jewish authorities determining what is kosher. And if there is any doubt about the requirements of observance, the beth din (rabbinic court) is nearby, not far from the mikvah (ritual bath) and the Kollel (a major center for adult religious study). Moreover, this part of Devon Avenue goes through an eruv, a geographic area constituted under Jewish law as the legal equivalent of the household – with the result that observant Jews can legally carry things on the Sabbath and on the High Holy Days.
Of the many Jewish institutions in Rogers Parks, we studied three in depth. Ezra Habonim is a Conservative congregation, the result of a merger of two German-speaking congregations. Although the older generations of its three hundred members are Germans and Austrians, it seeks to attract younger Jews of any nationality. The Sephardic Congregation is a community of about 250 Sephardic families who have come, either directly or by descent from immigrants earlier in this century, from the various Mediterranean countries in which the Spanish Jews settled. The congregation practices Orthodox observance, so most of its members live close enough to the synagogue to walk to services. Finally, we studied The Ark, a social service agency that follows halachah and conducts Shab bat services for staff, persons in their shelter, and many recent Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union.
The time was when the Jewish dominance of Devon Avenue extended much further east than the corner of California Avenue, but now the brown sign indicating the honorary street name shows the next segment to be Gandhi Marg, and the vegetarian groceries, South Asian spices, and silk saris set the tone. The religious symbolism of the community is not as obvious as on Golda Meir Boulevard, in part because Indian culture involves many different religions– Hinduism, Islam, Sikhism, Jainism, and Christianity. Moreover, the religious practices of Hinduism are not directly tied to neighborhood geography. Despite an Indian population of more than six thousand in Rogers Parks, with more in the immediately adjacent suburbs, there is only one Hindu temple here, organized and staffed by the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (widely known as Hare Krishna). In conducting our case study we learned that, although a few “new age,” youthful Americans responded to Hare Krishna recruitment, the leadership and financial support for the temple come from Indian immigrants, mostly from Gujarat and Punjab, and that the temple is organized very much on the model of American congregations. Indian Christians also form American congregations, such as the First Telugu Methodist Church, which is hosted by the United Church of Rogers Park.
Continuing east on Devon, especially in the segment designated Mohammed Ali Jinnah Way, it is not uncommon to see meat markets and groceries with “Halal” signs indicating the availability of religiously approved foods for observant Muslims. Most Indian and Pakistani Muslims in Rogers Parks identify themselves as “Indo-Pakistanis,” and they, along with a few Jordanians, Palestinians, Iranians, and Africans, constitute the membership of the five mosques located here. We studied one of these, the Al-Madina Islamic Center, just off Devon Avenue, where two hundred or more Muslim men of many nationalities gather for the jum’ah prayers early every Friday afternoon. But it is the Indo-Pakistanis — some speaking only Urdu, except for enough Arabic to say the prayers — who live in the rental apartments near the mosque, who support it and develop its programs and activities.
About halfway across Rogers Parks, Ridge Avenue marks a local watershed, and the terrain begins to slope gently downward toward Lake Michigan. Now the Mexican taquerias and restaurants become prominent and frequent, signaling the presence of Latino immigrants and transmigrants who live and work nearby. Those who participate in religious organizations mostly attend either Catholic parishes that offer the mass in Spanish or Spanish-speaking Protestant churches. We will see how Saint Jerome Roman Catholic Church organizes itself to include the Hispanic, Haitian, and white “American” Catholics living within its parish boundaries, just as in previous generations it struggled to make the Irish, German, Lithuanian, and Polish parishioners feel equally at home and spiritually nourished. We will also look at Mision Cristiana Elim, a Spanish-speaking Pentecostal church whose six hundred members have come from Mexico and Central America. And in the most economically impoverished part of Rogers Parks, “North of Howard,” we find another of our case studies, the Good News Church/Iglesia Buenas Nuevas, a two-hundred-member congregation of the United Church of Christ, with services in both Spanish and English.
Reaching the end of Devon Avenue, on the shore of Lake Michigan, we find the campus of Loyola, a major Jesuit university, with Saint Ignatius Roman Catholic Church not far away. These and the four other large Catholic parishes remind us that Rogers Parks is historically a “white ethnic” area, and the 1990 U.S. Census figures show that a majority still identify themselves as white.
As we can see, the diversity of Rogers Parks includes religion. By the Religion in Urban America Program’s enumeration, in the years 1993-1998, the formally organized religious bodies that met regularly in a designated physical space in Rogers Parks included thirty Jewish congregations, twenty-seven Protestant churches, six mosques, five Roman Catholic parishes and the Croatian Catholic Mission, an Assyrian Catholic church, four Buddhist temples or meditation centers, a Hindu temple, a Sikh gurdwara, and five or more new age meditation and worship centers. Of the Jewish congregations, twenty-one were Orthodox, three Traditional, four Conservative, one Reform, and one Lubavitcher. Of the Protestant churches, five represented mainline denominations, five were immigrant congregations associated with mainline denominations, and the remaining seventeen included Christian Science, Jehovah’s Wit nesses, and various Pentecostal, Evangelical, and sectarian groups — many with names indicating an ethnic or national identity.
Diversity and Controversy
Diversity is both touted evidence of American inclusiveness and a source of anxiety. At the neighborhood level, diversity often is feared as meaning that “outsiders” have arrived and will soon replace the previous population–which itself, in many cases, had replaced another population one or two generations earlier. In the first half of the twentieth century, the Chicago School of urban sociology developed theories of “invasion and succession”  to explain this phenomenon. Since the Second World War, the concept of “racial tipping”  has been used to explain and predict the point at which too much diversity will result in “white flight” and thus in the complete turnover of a neighborhood to a racially or ethnically different population. Chicago is, in fact, notorious for the resegregation of its neighborhoods soon after they achieve a measure of racial diversity. For example, the Religion in Urban America Program studied Chicago congregations in two African-American neighborhoods and one Hispanic neighborhood. All three of these neighborhoods had been originally all white, then racially mixed for only a short time before becoming homogeneous again. Another area in this study, Chicago’s Southwest Side, lies next to an area that changed from all-white to all-black within a period of little more than ten years, and the members of the Southwest Side’s parishes were understandably frightened that the same would hap pen there.  The Rogers Parks neighborhoods are in the same situation as those of the Southwest Side: despite significant differences (Rogers Parks does not lie next to a “color line” and a poverty ghetto), both areas exhibit a diversity that has the chance of being sustainable. In a twenty two-city study sponsored by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, Rogers Park and the Southwest Side’s Marquette Park were among the fourteen racially diverse neighborhoods selected as case studies with prospects for avoiding the pattern of tipping and white flight.  The study concluded that the capacity of a diverse neighborhood to be stable depends fundamentally on its quality of life, and this includes both economic and physical conditions and the values and attitudes fostered by community institutions. A study of Rogers Park conducted at Loyola University in 1993 reached similar conclusions and found that the residents valued the diversity-except that they feared the consequences of increasing poverty. 
Yet, for an area that was 99.5 percent white in 1960, the change has been substantial. By 1990 the population had changed from 0 to 14 percent Hispanic, from 0 to 13 percent Asian, from 0 to 15 percent black. Many of the 83,364 whites are foreign born — not only Jews and others coming from the former Soviet Union and Eastern Europe but also Arabs and nonblack Hispanics.  So, in light of the experience of other neighborhoods, the possibility of tipping and white flight cannot be easily dismissed.
Diversity is also controversial for more philosophical reasons. While the diversity of a neighborhood may be the consequence of market forces, attitudes toward it may result from beliefs about what it takes to have a good community and a good society. And the diversity of a particular neighborhood may result from the active creation of enclaves and boundaries, the articulation of rationales for separation, and competition for social benefits–what Iris Marion Young calls “the politics of difference.”  Indeed, many of the religious organizations discussed in this article not only locate themselves in ethnoracial enclaves but help to shape them and to give them character.
The term ethnoracial is borrowed from David Hollinger’s Postethnic America  in order to bridge the distinction between ethnicity and race, which, as socially constructed categories, are distinguishable but not separable in a fluid context such as Rogers Parks. In the late-twentieth-century American urban context, the metaphor enclave draws on its geopolitical roots but connotes a concentration of a subpopulation in an identifiable locale rather than a completely homogeneous population within fixed physical boundaries. While Rogers Parks is diverse, many of the microneighborhoods that make it up are much more ethnoracially concentrated, and that concentration is often fostered and defined by religious groups.
This tendency of diversity to be expressed as group self-identification and difference, often labeled “multiculturalism,” is welcomed by many who perceive that the more homogeneous American culture of previous eras imposed itself on minority groups in ways that not only were unjust but that also erased the cultural enrichment of the whole society. From this perspective, some kind of politically self-conscious development of groups defined by separate identities would be necessary to prevent the conformist requirements of “coercive pluralism” — in Lawrence Fuchs’s apt phrase — imposed on blacks, Latinos, and immigrants as the price for participation in the wider society.
In opposition to this positive view of multiculturalism, public intellectuals such as Arthur Schlesinger Jr. were warning of “the disuniting of America,” and Todd Gitlin could write nostalgically about the “twilight of common dreams,”  meaning that even the leftist aspirations were being fragmented by the conflicting claims of ethnic and racial groups. The American ideal of e pluribus unum is in danger, they said, because “the many” were identifying too much with their separate groups, rather than with the “one.”
Historian David Hollinger, who agrees with the multiculturalist claims that racial and ethnic minorities have been subordinated and muscled into conformity with the norms of the dominant classes, nevertheless worries that the affirmation of separate subcultures actually undermines the social justice it seeks to promote. In Postethnic America he argues that the self-identification as separate groups common in the 1990s will ultimately contribute to further marginalization and loss of status of their members. There are many conflicting perspectives on multiculturalism. Minority groups’ self-assertion in terms of their group identity will be viewed — positively by some and negatively by others — as fragmenting a presumably common, American culture.
Religious Congregations and Ethnoracial Enclaves
Religious organizations of all faiths produce and reproduce cultural forms that both incorporate and influence the ethnic and racial identities of their people.  This process defines and enforces both geographical and symbolic boundaries that distinguish the insider from the outsider, ethnically and racially as well as religiously. At the same time, these religious cultures express values and attitudes about the people, communities, and society beyond their boundaries.
Religiously defined ethnoracial enclaves are as old as the Jewish ghetto and the Catholic national parish, and many Protestant neighbor hoods — such as the heavily Lutheran Swedish “Andersonville”  in Chicago- have had similar characteristics. But to have such enclaves within an extraordinarily diverse setting such as Rogers Parks, and in an era of highly contested multiculturalism, raises the question of whether and how they contribute to the livability and sustainability of the wider community. Of the nine congregations we examined as religious case studies in the Rogers Parks neighborhoods, seven function either as ethnoracial enclaves or as loose constellations of two or more such enclaves. Moreover, although one congregation, the United Church of Rogers Park, succeeds in its effort to be inclusive and diverse, even it is the host to the First Telugu Methodist Church, which functions as a Telugu speaking, South Asian enclave. Now we examine the internal dynamics of these enclaves and their relations with their neighborhoods.
The Jewish Community and the Neighborhood
Undoubtedly, the purest example of an ethnoracial enclave in Rogers Parks is the Jewish community. Like all ethnoracial enclaves in Rogers Parks, it shares space with many other ethnoracial and religious groups. But while the geographic space is not homogeneous or exclusive, the Jewish population is highly concentrated, and the cultural infrastructure is very dense. In a 1990 survey, more than twenty-six thousand people in 10,960 households in West Rogers Park identified themselves as Jewish. Included in these households were more than six thousand Jewish children and more than two thousand Jewish teenagers, 97 percent of whom lived with both parents. Levels of synagogue affiliation (56 percent), religious observance, and communal and civic involvement were far higher among West Rogers Park Jewish residents than among the overall Jewish population of metropolitan Chicago.  West Rogers Park is also the home of an extraordinary concentration of Jewish religious and cultural organizations, including a growing number of shuls (more than twenty-five), day schools, and social service agencies operated by and for Jews according to Jewish law and custom. 
The Jewish population’s migration within the city is reflected in the founding of Congregation Ezra Habonim, created when Congregation Habonim moved from the South Side to join Congregation Ezra in the early 1970s. The Sephardic Congregation moved from the West Side and built its present synagogue in 1970; The Ark moved to West Rogers Park from the Albany Park neighborhood soon thereafter.
Congregation Ezra Habonim, affiliated with the Conservative branch of American Judaism, is a “Holocaust congregation” founded by refugees from Nazi Germany. As required in Ezra Habonim’s bylaws, Kristallnacht, the day in 1938 when synagogues and Jewish-owned businesses were vandalized and destroyed en masse by Nazis and their supporters in Germany and Austria, is memorialized in a very moving service each year.
The intermingling of German identity with the refugee status of members has created a distinct character for this synagogue. These immigrants brought a frugal fiscal style that served them well as they struggled to start a new life in a foreign country without the benefit of public support. They bonded with one another as refugees, and the synagogue became their main social center as well as their place of worship. 
By the 1980s the congregation was experiencing fundamental changes, such as the aging of its founding generation; the migration of a large portion of the Jewish population, including some of its members, to the suburbs; the “social revolution” of the 1970s, with its appeal for greater equality and individual rights; and the somewhat countervailing trend within Conservative Judaism toward the reclaiming of deeper roots in Jewish tradition. Since the skills and interests of the younger generation were not the same as those of their forebears, the 1980s was inevitably a time of transition. The question of staying in West Rogers Park remained an underlying issue, but the immediate concerns were how to maintain a viable synagogue home for diverse members — no longer united by the German language and direct experience of the Holocaust–and how to educate their children in Judaism, the meaning and observance of which were being renegotiated.
Responses to these concerns reflect a combination of the immigrant/refugee experience and the urban situation in which the members live. The congregation had been a “community of memory,” whose “constitutive narrative” consisted decisively in retelling the Holocaust experience. As Robert Bellah notes, “A genuine community of memory will…tell painful stories of shared suffering that sometimes creates deeper iden tities than success.”  Indeed, the Holocaust narrative was constitutive for Ezra Habonim during the very decades, prior to Israel’s 1967 Six-Day War, about which Nathan Glazer wrote that he “could see no major impact of the Holocaust… on the internal life of American Jews.”  So, just as the wider Jewish community was beginning to find Holocaust history to be a source of communal identity (the national Holocaust Museum being a concrete result), Ezra Habonim’s members who actually experienced the Holocaust began to retire, move to retirement homes, and die. Thus the memory could be sustained only by deliberate measures such as the Kristallnacht services and the content of religious education programs.
During the 1990s, young families with children formed a strong element in the membership of Ezra Habonim. The school, run by a professional staff and a volunteer board, provides a comprehensive education in Jewish life and customs, law and liturgy, theology and ethics, and history and language. Classes begin for prekindergarten children and continue through the high school youth group, which meets with other youth groups from the city and suburbs. In addition to classes, attendance at Shabbat services is mandatory. Both the rabbi and the hazzan (cantor) teach regularly in the school in addition to tutoring bar and bat mitzvahs preparing for initiation into religious adulthood. Three youth groups complement and extend the work of the school.
The progressive cultural innovation within Judaism and the wider culture was reflected in the congregation’s decision to become “egalitarian,” calling women to the Torah and counting them in the minyan (the traditional minimum of ten adult males needed for communal prayers) — the first Conservative synagogue in the Chicago area to do so. A decadelater, a female hazzan was hired. Women can, and some do, wear the kippah, the same head covering as men, and they wear the tallith (prayer shawl). These changes identified the congregation with the liberal side of the Conservative movement, yet the general trend toward traditional observance in Judaism  was present here as well. The congregation hired an Orthodox rabbi, who was a good fit with the services, with most prayers in Hebrew and much interactional and joint praying. The rabbi tolerated, while seeking to correct, the members’ limitations in observance of the law and their lack of Jewish “literacy.”
The congregation’s philanthropy is directed both to members and to nonmember Jews. The first is through a specially constituted fund for persons in need called the Gemiluth Chesed, meaning “acts of loving kindness.” The anonymity of this activity is in keeping with the Jewish injunction to conduct charity privately. Second, Ezra Habonim has been active in supporting Russian Jewish immigrants by providing space for English classes, free tuition at the Hebrew school, and free initial memberships to the synagogue. Most of the Russian families, however, drop their participation as soon as the free tuition and memberships run out.
By the mid-1990s, the major concern for Ezra Habonim was to decide about the congregation’s location in the heart of the only remaining Jewish neighborhood in Chicago. With most Chicago-area Jews, especially the non-Orthodox, now living in suburbs, the congregation could have increased membership by moving to a suburban location, but it decided to remain on Touhy Avenue. They thought their distinct historical identity would contribute to a viable urban Jewish life, one in which Conservative Jews who value the tough cosmopolitanism and diversity of the city could find a religious community. And the congregation itself would benefit from the dense Jewish infrastructure without giving up the broader diversity of the city. They were proactive, deciding both to strengthen their internal programs, particularly in religious education, and to market their presence to the unaffiliated Jews, especially young people, who live in the Loop, Near North, and Far North Sides of the city. Although the congregation later divided, the part of the congregation that remained in Rogers Parks are the younger families who tend toward increasing religious observance. This strong Conservative congregation, rooted in but transcending the Holocaust identity, is committed to maintaining the current Jewish enclave in an urban rather than suburban setting.
The Sephardic Congregation’s members are, by constitution, all Sephardic, though multinational and multilingual by custom and practice. Sephardim  are descendants of the Jews of Spain, who developed a distinct subculture as a suppressed minority before the Expulsion in 1492. Elements of that subculture are evident in the Sephardic Congregation, including special rituals and customs, variations in the prayers, the use of the Ladino language (parallel to the Ashkenazim’s use of Yiddish) in conversation and Aramaic (as well as Hebrew) in scripture study, and certain foods (such as baked eggs and Mediterranean delicacies). Because the Sephardim dispersed widely after the Expulsion, they have come to Chicago from many countries–Italy, Greece, Turkey, Iran, Israel, Egypt, Yemen, Morocco, among others. Moreover, since some came to the Western Hemisphere with the early European explorers and colonists, they are now “natives,” welcoming the new immigrants from Mediterranean countries. No single group predominates in this synagogue, so the religious services reflect an amalgam of several religious and cultural traditions.
All public activities follow the norms of Sephardic Orthodox practice as interpreted by the rabbi. Services are conducted daily, with the morning prayers (described in the introduction to this book) attended by a few men and the principal Shabbat service on Saturday morning by 150 or more men and women, including the very pious who live in the immediate neighborhood or walk a considerable distance in conformity with halachah. The three-hour Shabbat service is conducted entirely in He brew except for a short sermon and announcements and involves much participation in prayers and scripture readings. The men ceremoniously remove a Torah scroll from the ark and carry it around the sanctuary for worshipers to touch with their prayer shawls before it is placed on the bimah and read. Women, seated behind the mehitza, a half-height partition, reach through to touch the Torah scroll with their prayer books.
The education of families has two substantive dimensions: what it means to be Jewish and what it means to be Sephardic. Children’s programs are conducted during Shabbat service and on Sundays, teaching Bible stories, Jewish ways of living, and the Hebrew language at an early age. But the main role of the synagogue is to urge families to study together at home so that children learn, through their parents’ efforts, what it means to be both Jewish and Sephardic.
The congregation’s charitable activities include its Special Fund, based in contributions at daily prayers. The fund is given to persons in need, but only those who have been vetted by Agudas Israel, a recognized organization of the Orthodox Jewish community. The congregation and its rabbi are strong supporters of The Ark (discussed below), which provides a full range of social services in accordance with Orthodox interpretation of Jewish law. Congregational support for the Chicago Jewish Federation/ United Jewish Appeal promotes the well-being of the Jewish community in general and, to some extent, the wider public good.
The congregation is deeply involved with the American Sephardic Federation, a secular organization that has been a significant force in the assertion of Sephardic identity in America since World War II. Leaders of the congregation are also leaders of the federation at the regional and national levels. The federation holds meetings and programs at the synagogue, which are promoted by the congregation and function, in effect, as part of the congregation’s educational program. One partnership between the two organizations was the “Shabboton,” a weekend conference held in December 1993, which incorporated elements of spiritual retreat, ethnic education, and social outing. The prayers, rituals, and educational pro grams provide a kind of social glue that holds the people together as Jews and as Sephardim, despite tremendous differences among members in language and custom. Thus, this congregation represents both the Sephardic subpopulation within Judaism and religiously observant Jews who identify as Sephardim. It is a vibrant Jewish assembly that contributes to the vitality of the Jewish community, especially in West Rogers Park. But it also creates a distinct cultural niche within the Jewish Community that fosters the development of Sephardic identity and religious practice.
The Ark, occupying the large, beautifully renovated Seymour Persky Center only a few blocks from Ezra Habonim and Sephardic Congregation, offers itself as “the Torah’s vehicle for sustaining individuals in time of crisis.” It is a professional social service center, but one in which Jewish volunteers can both fulfill the Torah’s mitzvot (commandments) and do tzedakah (charitable deeds). The boundaries and distinctions between the many constituencies and population groups that make up The Ark are intentionally and successfully blurred. It is like the biblical Noah’s ark–Noah built the ark (providing both religious leadership and skilled labor), but he also needed it as much as anyone else. While staff are well qualified professionals and most volunteers are securely situated people, The Ark recognizes that no one is completely secure from a “sea of troubles” and thus fosters an attitude of being in this “ark” together. At The Ark, many of the people being assisted also serve as volunteers — some of them regularly, year after year — and it is believed that their acts of charity and service may be healing for them as well as for those they assist. Staff and volunteers often serve in the same or overlapping roles, and both interact with clients without obvious signs of status.
Staff, volunteers, and clients all embody the fabric of interrelation ships between The Ark and the Jewish neighborhood of West Rogers Park. Clients can be referred for religious counseling to neighborhood rabbis, many of whom interact regularly with The Ark’s staff members. The Kollel, the Chicago Rabbinical Council, the Jewish Council for Elderly, the Associated Talmud Torah, and many other Jewish agencies located within easy walking distance serve as a network of organizations, professionals, and volunteers who share responsibility with The Ark for the care and nurture of people in need. Thus, The Ark is one of the pillars of neighborhood life.
The Ark’s name also recalls the Ark of the Covenant, and the agency is devoted to enabling Jews to live as observant Jews, individually and collectively, regardless of their means. All food distributed through the food pantry is kosher and is available not only to the hungry but also to those who might otherwise not have kosher food. This makes The Ark’s program more expensive and resources harder to obtain than they would otherwise be. But the observance is connected with a holistic support system, including a synagogue on the premises, religious services con ducted both at The Ark and at secular and Christian agencies that serve Jewish people, and schedules built around observance of halachah by staff, volunteers, and those assisted.
Congregation Ezra Habonim, the Sephardic Congregation, and The Ark all enact both their religious and their ethnic traditions in their collective practices, and they transmit the traditions to their children and to newcomers to the neighborhood. But these are not merely acts of transmittal; they are acts of cultural adaptation and innovation, in formed by the experience and practice of current adult members’ parents but adapted to the requirements and competing values of their present situations.
The collective activities of these organizations are intensely local, both presupposing and promoting a high concentration of Jewish residents and an intricate infrastructure of Jewish institutions in the central part of West Rogers Park. Insofar as the three organizations look beyond themselves, it is to the wider Jewish community, not to the non-Jewish people of Rogers Parks or to the rest of the city. While their individual members may be quite worldly in other contexts, this was not evident in organizational practice. These Jewish organizations foster an enclave within West Rogers Park and smaller enclaves within that one, but they are defined by the concentration of the Jewish population and institutions, not by exclusion of or hostility toward others. The three organizations do not explicitly espouse “common dreams” (beyond the Jewish community), but neither do they “disunite America.” Moreover, we witnessed three solid and solvent institutions, with well-maintained buildings, that actively encouraged residence in the neighborhood and offered tangible support for those who choose to live there. The two synagogues made deliberate decisions not to move out of the neighborhood, not only because of the benefits they received from being in this unique concentration of Jews but also because they would contribute to a stronger Jewish neighborhood, thus helping the city remain attractive to Jewish residents and, in turn, countering the suburban migration that is often part of white flight.
A Catholic Parish and Its Ethnoracial Enclaves
Saint Jerome is a large, hundred-year-old Catholic church in the northeast portion of Rogers Parks. The church has six hundred registered families, mostly older and middle-aged white people who have lived in the parish for most of their lives. In addition, by the pastor’s estimate, at least four hundred Spanish-speaking families attend mass regularly and participate in various parish activities but are not formally registered as members. Given the larger size of these families, Hispanics comprise a majority of the parish population. In addition, there are about one hundred Haitian families and a few African Americans, Filipinos, and Indians. The six Sunday masses draw more than two thousand worshipers, of whom two-thirds are Hispanic. The church operated a parish school until 1994, when it became a participant in the newly created North Side Catholic Academy, with campuses at other parishes.
Saint Jerome thus exemplifies the traditional territorial parish, which ministers to all baptized Catholics — and informally, to many others — living within its boundaries.  Its territorial constitution determines that it cannot be a single ethnoracial enclave, since multiple ethnic groups live within its boundaries. It continues to be a social center, as it was for Euro-American ethnic groups in the past, but it is a center that different ethnic groups “use” for their distinct social as well as spiritual purposes. In practice, in the late 1990s, Saint Jerome has formed three differentiated social groups, distinguished by both language and race, each constructing its distinctive culture. The fact that the pastor is trilingual enhances his efforts to provide pastoral leadership to the whole parish, but both the Spanish- and French-speaking groups have their own ordained staff (a priest and a deacon).
Saint Jerome addresses a few programs to the entire church and to the entire neighborhood. A special Easter Mass is conducted in English and Spanish, and the Centennial Mass was celebrated in 1994 in English, French, and Spanish. Each year, the parish attempts other bilingual and trilingual rituals. The annual Via Crucis, a ritual strongly associated with Mexican Catholicism, which Saint Jerome celebrates in response to advocacy by Mexicans, is conducted in English and French as well as Spanish in an effort to symbolize the unity of the diverse parish. This ritually realistic reenactment of Jesus carrying the cross to his own crucifixion helps build community solidarity. By their participation, neighbors of many ethnicities and races acknowledge the status of Saint Jerome Church in the community. As they collectively move through their neighborhood, ceremonially visiting local sites where serious crimes were committed, they call attention to the problem of community violence and their common stake in ending it.
The three Sunday masses in Spanish account for the majority of the attendance, and it is in these that the preponderance of worshipful energy is evident. The Spanish-language choir, singing to the accompaniment of stringed instruments, both expresses cultural themes familiar to the worshipers and enlists their participation in the mass and in the church. Some Hispanics have been parishioners as long as twenty years, and they help organize liturgies and celebrations in Mexican traditions — including the posadas during the season of Advent and the mananitas for the Virgin of Guadalupe. The latter, a service of love songs to the Virgin, is devoid of the Mexican nationalism we observed at mananitas in other Chicago communities (perhaps because the population here includes Cubans, Central Americans, and Puerto Ricans), but it is a spirited, energetic affair, and the church is packed with families having a wonderful time.
The Hispanic youth group, Esperanza Latina, attracts fifty or more young people (twelve to thirty years of age) to its weekly meetings, which offer a combination of education in Catholic teaching (the meaning of prayer, of sexuality, of obedience); planning of youth-initiated activities (a Palm Sunday drama to be performed during Mass); and socializing among themselves (a Valentine’s Day party). Throughout the many activities youth are asked to think about alternatives, and to deliberate about differences among themselves. Their differences often represent degrees of assimilation to U.S. culture and varying levels of acceptance of Catholic teaching. Saint Jerome fosters the exploration of alternatives, to the extent, for example, of inviting a Mexican American couple who had lived together before their marriage to speak to the group about sexuality, marriage, and family. All discussions are in Spanish (even though most youth speak English well), thus both selecting and encouraging those who are inclined to preserve the cultural heritage of Mexico or of the other Spanish-speaking countries from which they or their parents have come. But young people unable or unwilling to speak Spanish simply do not have a youth program to participate in.
Spanish-speaking youth, and people of all ages, will also find warm welcome and a rich array of programs at the nearby Iglesia de Cristo-Mision Cristiana Elim, a growing Pentecostal church that acquired its large auditorium and educational plant from a Korean congregation in about 1990. Elim, as the church is locally known, is part of a network of Pentecostal churches that was founded in Guatemala and expanded through Central America and Mexico. Some of the six hundred members of Elim were part of the church in Guatemala or Mexico, but most have joined the church since their arrival in Chicago. By 1995 this congregation had started four mission churches, two in Illinois and two in Mexico, forming something of a transnational circuit.
Elim shares many characteristics of “Anglo” and black Pentecostal churches and of Catholic charismatics, including expressive worship styles, rock-style music, physical and emotional healing, speaking in tongues, and many “gifts of the Spirit.” Like many such churches, it devotes a great deal of preaching, teaching, and counseling to the promotion and support of nuclear families. While the church has a conservative model of the “good” family, it helps its members find an approach to family life that will work for them in a new and strange environment–urban, North American, and culturally diverse. For example, a marriage retreat promotes negotiation and accommodation between spouses, qualifying the strict patriarchal principle of deference to the husband’s authority characteristic of conservative Christian teachings. Similarly, while the Youth Discipleship program includes rather strict moral teaching about chastity until marriage, it also lovingly accepts the unmarried member who becomes pregnant, and it celebrates the birth with a baby shower.
Like Saint Jerome’s Hispanic parishioners, Elim’s members are living on a number of cultural boundaries — between Mexico and the United States, between traditional and modern, between Christian and secular. These churches offer their members some of the tools for dealing with life on these boundaries. By using the Spanish language only, each church creates a cultural enclave within which its members have a limited protection from the pressures of the new, the urban, the secular. But while each church offers its traditional teaching as moral armor to withstand these pressures, it also offers space within which people can selectively negotiate these boundaries for themselves.
Thus the enclaves are exclusive (of non-Spanish-speakers), but within them people prepare for resilient participation in the multicultural urban world. In contrast to residents of all-Hispanic neighborhoods, the participants in these churches in Rogers Parks may have no other Hispanic cultural space–unless they join a Latino gang. Both churches know that, as far as youth are concerned, the gangs are their main competitors.
South Asian Muslims
The Al-Madina Islamic Center occupies the entire basement of a large apartment building on Wallen Avenue, not far from the corner of Devon and Clark. The entrance is visible only from the alley, but at the appointed hour for jum’ah prayers on Friday afternoons, as many as 250 men and boys can be found there, praying, listening to a short khutbah (sermon) in Arabic and to other speeches in Urdu, and then socializing among themselves. Many live or work nearby, but others have chosen this mosque as the place to fulfill their obligation to pray simply because they were in this vicinity at the time. Most of the men are Indo-Pakistanis, some dressed as American laborers and professionals, others in the tunics and hats worn in India and Pakistan. Others appear to be Arabs, Africans, African Americans, Caucasians. 
While the jum’ah prayer is the central liturgical event of the week — comparable to the Sunday mass or the Shabbat service — it provides only a glimpse of the mosque and its role in Rogers Parks. All the prescribed prayers are conducted — five times every day, according to the officially established lunar timetable. At 4 p.m. Monday through Thursday, neighborhood Muslim boys and girls, often rushing back by public transportation from selective magnet schools around the city, meet with an Urdu-speaking instructor for lessons in Arabic, the Qur’an, and the moral principles of Islam. During the summer, the children spend their days studying the same subjects under the direction of professional teachers whose first language is Arabic. The children’s mothers and fathers come in and out, interacting with the teachers and with one another, helping to build a community devoted to making the Islamic way of life meaningful for the next generation of Indo-Pakistani immigrants. Teachers and parents alike encourage students to seize certain opportunities the city presents–to go to the best schools, get the best jobs, advance as far as possible. But a moral discipline must also be preserved: a conservative practice with respect to sexuality and family structure and a recognition of the mosque and the Islamic community as the appropriate source of moral authority.
Participation by parents, teachers, and the mosque’s leadership in educational activities, as well as family gatherings for fast-breaking and other community meals, help constitute the mosque as a neighborhood social center for Indo-Pakistani Muslims. Thus, when the men gather to make the decisions about hiring part-time teachers and imams or about repairing the drains, they are shaping communal life in a small corner of Rogers Parks, not only the religious practices of those who come to study and pray.
Asian Indian Hindus
The Hare Krishna Temple on Lunt Avenue is the Chicago congregation of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON), which came to the United States from India in 1965.  ISKCON was a proselytizing Hindu movement that Westerners saw as a “new religious movement.” However, during the 1980s, according to Raymond Williams,  and by our own observation in the mid-1990s, while the religious leaders were still primarily Western converts, the regular participants and reliable supporters were mainly Indian immigrants living in Rogers Parks or nearby suburbs.
The temple conducts the prescribed traditional Hindu worship services, offering food and saying prayers to the gods five times each day. The daily practice includes the 4:30 a.m. service, which is omitted by many of the other Hindu temples in the Chicago area, including some whose priests, unlike Hare Krishna’s, are Indians. On weekends the temple adds services for the convenience of persons whose work week prevents their daily attendance. The largest of these is the Sunday evening service, which is followed by a meal that not only is strictly vegetarian but is technically what is left over from what the priests have prepared for the gods. Thus the meal has been made with meticulous attention to both cleanliness and taste. Several hundred people, mostly Indians, attend this service and the meal each week.
The temple’s education program inculcates Krishna consciousness in the younger members and recent converts, with an emphasis on vegetarianism, nonviolence, avoidance of intoxication and illicit sex, and the regular chanting of the Hare Krishna mantra. The “Straight Talk” program addresses issues of concern to adolescents, including dating and sexual relations. Thus the temple assists Indian parents by conveying moral norms of Hindu and Indian culture. These norms are quite conservative, but since Hare Krishna is a proselytizing sect and interested Westerners often attend the meetings, the presenters attempt to be realistic about the opportunities and pressures of adolescent life in America.
This temple serves as both a cultural and a physical space in which Indian immigrants collectively invent their ethnoracial identities as Indian Americans. The Hindu rituals and the Vedic epics they dramatize identify the participants with India and with the moral values and communal customs of their origins. The predominance of the northern Indian Gujarati and Punjabi languages and customs tends to foster ethnic differentiation from other Indian Americans. For major festivals, these Indians may travel to a larger temple, perhaps a more ecumenical one such as the Hindu Temple of Greater Chicago almost thirty miles away; but Hare Krishna on Lunt Avenue is a place they can conveniently gather weekly or even more often. These Indians are dispersed throughout much of Rogers Parks and the adjacent suburbs of Skokie and Evanston but are sufficiently concentrated to make use of a local house of worship. As a result, the temple reinforces the solidarity of Indians as neighbors, as north Indians, and as Hindus.
A Protestant “Parish”
United Church of Rogers Park is a United Methodist congregation of about 250 members, occupying a large, aging building not far from Saint Jerome, Elim, and Hare Krishna. The regular attenders (no one seems to care much about membership) include English-speaking members of many of the ethnoracial groups of the area– white, African American, and Caribbean. While most of the attenders are middle-income professionals, many are poor, and some suffer from mental problems, alcoholism, and other dysfunctions. In addition, the Indians of the First Telugu Methodist Church, which uses separate space at United Church for its weekly services, participate occasionally in Sunday worship and other programs.
United Church is an exception to the pattern developed so far, because rather than building social solidarity on the basis of shared ethnic or racial identity, it attempts, with some success, to make inclusiveness itself a constitutive principle. The church identifies itself as a “safe space” for all, and this metaphor has several meanings. First, the Sunday morning worship service is multicultural, with a rather formal order of service holding together diverse rituals and with music drawn from various (Anglo) American, African American, African, and Caribbean traditions. Prayers and announcements invite concern for fellow human beings throughout the city, suburbs, and the world, often referring explicitly to the many ways in which they are different from the people of United Church and from one another. Worshipers who have trouble relating to the service or to other worshipers– those with mental disorders, for example — are assisted by others who have been trained and authorized to do so.
The InSight Arts program teaches performing and visual arts, but its “ministerial” purpose is to provide community youth a space that is safe from the streets (gang violence), from their homes (domestic violence), and from social control (artistic censorship). The Children’s Learning Center (preschool and after school), the Community House (drop-in center), the Community Feast (a weekly soup kitchen), and the Mountain Moving Coffee House (a lesbian organization) all provide security not only from physical harm but from social degradation and personal disrespect. Access to some of these groups is restricted — one must be obey the rules of respect to stay in InSight Arts, and one must be a lesbian or a lesbian’s daughter to go to the Coffee House — but they are deliberately inclusive with respect to race and ethnicity.
United Church is widely known to teach a distinct sense of moral responsibility-to respect, include, and care for others–and also to teach that this respect means permitting others to make their own moral choices. In contrast to most of the immigrant congregations we have discussed, the moral culture of United Church fosters conscientious individual choice more than the moral discipline of the community. It is a decidedly liberal congregation that even in its internal life affirms only enough rules to ensure that individuals are safe and that groups can run their own affairs without interference. Thus, while the church prides itself on being inclusive and on sharing and caring among different groups, it is successful in these objectives in part by ensuring the inviolability of separate cultural, and usually physical, spaces. Except for the Telugu congregation, these spaces are not ethnoracial enclaves, but they are groups in which persons, both individually and socially, define their identities for themselves.
A Church in Mission
The Good News Church/Iglesia Buenas Nuevas began as a “house church” and then a storefront church in North of Howard, a very poor section of Rogers Parks. It was a creation of socially and spiritually committed individuals from educational institutions in the adjacent suburb of Evanston. In 1991 it merged with a Hispanic storefront church, and the joint congregation began worshiping together monthly while maintaining separate weekly worship services and prayer and Bible-study meetings. The joint congregation also sponsors a soup kitchen that serves more than one hundred people from the immediate neighborhood every day, with the assistance of suburban congregations that supply food, funds, and volunteers.
Like United Church, Good News is a “mainline Protestant” church (a congregation of the United Church of Christ), and it shares the commitment of service to the people of the neighborhood. Although it has both Spanish-speaking and English-speaking ministers, it works to hold worshipers together in a single congregation through joint activities, a single governing board, and, most important, a common commitment to community service. In some ways this approach may be compared with the distinct services of the three language groups at Saint Jerome; but Good News Church is much smaller than the Catholic parish, and the two language groups have less to do apart from the whole, so that it seems to function much more as a single spiritual community. And while the comparison with United Church is evident in its service orientation and its inclusiveness, Good News has no single, inclusive worship service to project a symbolic unity.
But there is a unity that is both symbolic and practical, and it is to be found in the service to the North of Howard section of Rogers Parks — a section that is almost entirely black and Hispanic and that is the most economically impoverished in the Rogers Parks area. Although a few members come from outside North of Howard, and although suburban churches provide volunteers and financial support, North of Howard defines the congregation as a community.
Religion and Rogers Parks’s Ethnoracial Enclaves
Our walk along Devon Avenue showed the ethnoracial diversity of Rogers Parks, but as soon as we left Devon and focused on religious congregations, we found most of them to be much more homogeneous than the neighborhood as a whole, and those that were not homogeneous created distinctive subgroups that were. This looked like a multifaith variant on the aphorism that “eleven o’clock Sunday morning is the most segregated hour of the week,” as the new immigrant religions repeated the ethnoracial clustering long characteristic of Protestants, Catholics, and Jews. Moreover, with the exception of United Church, the rituals and activities of each congregation gave symbolic expression to a “we” that was defined not only religiously but ethnoracially. And even United Church, like two of the other four mainline Protestant churches in Rogers Parks, hosted a congregation (Telugu Methodist) that is constituted on an ethnoracial basis.
At a time when the cultural melting pot is being replaced by a mosaic, and when Nathan Glazer confirms that “we are all multiculturalists now,”  the simple fact that an apparent majority of congregations actively contribute to the construction of ethnoracial identities is unremarkable. But the content of those identities, the cultural and moral values they embody, may affect how they interface with the neighborhood, the city, and the wider society. As the research on diverse neighborhoods cited earlier makes clear, the sustainability of such neighborhoods depends in part on the ways in which their diversity is interpreted by the residents and on the investment of residents’ organizations and local institutions.
With the nonwhite population of Rogers Parks increasing to more than one-third in 1990, and with some census tracts as high as 40 percent Hispanic, 35 percent black, and 27 percent Asian, the area qualifies as a candidate for racial tipping and white flight.  Moreover, we found no congregations publicly promoting or defending the racial integration of the area, although United Church, Good News, and Saint Jerome are inclusive organizations. For these congregations of Rogers Parks, diversity is simply a fact of life.
Yet all the congregations have made commitments that add incentives for their members to remain as residents in Rogers Parks. The synagogues and The Ark help maintain a religious and ethnic infrastructure that would be hard to duplicate elsewhere (because it presupposes a geo-graphic concentration of Jews) and thus provide a compelling reason for twenty-six thousand Jews to remain in the neighborhood. Saint Jerome, United Church, and Good News, which represent predominantly white Christian denominations, not only maintain facilities in the neighborhood and offer services to all but also involve their white members in providing those services. The youth programs, which were offered by all the organizations we studied, stabilize the community in two ways. First, parents who might otherwise move to the suburbs to find the support they need for the religious education of their youth have a Jewish, Catholic, Pentecostal, liberal Protestant, Hindu, or Muslim youth group where they now live. Second, the religious groups provide alternatives to illegal youth activities, especially gangs, possibly reducing the danger of tipping by reducing the fear of crime.
These modest positives may be either magnified or eclipsed, however, by the cultural construction of the “we” of these religious groups, the “they” who are not included, and the boundaries between the two. Far from having negative attitudes toward outsiders, these groups are primarily concerned with themselves, apparently feeling it unnecessary to actively distinguish themselves from other ethnoracial groups. Sephardic Jews might take note of their differences from Ashkenazim; German and Austrian Jews might be concerned about Russian immigrants’ lack of religious literacy; and Muslims from India might define themselves as Indo-Pakistanis, thus distinguishing themselves from “Indians” and their presumably Hindu culture. Both Pentecostal and Catholic Hispanic youth defined terms of solidarity that excluded the violence, drugs, illicit sex, and machismo of the (Latino) gangs. But these are all boundaries within ethnoracial groups, not between them.
But do these organizations do anything positive to promote what they have in common, to build one neighborhood, one community, one American society? They clearly express a kind of American multiculturalism, each ensuring through rituals and education that its particular group will know and value what it means, within American society, to be, for example, Jewish, Sephardic Jewish, and Moroccan Sephardic Jewish; to be Muslim and Indo-Pakistani Muslim; to be Catholic, Hispanic, and Mexican Catholic; and so on. But do these congregations dream “common dreams,” that is, American dreams? Or, by failing to do so, do they “disunite” America? David Hollinger’s distinction between a pluralist and a cosmopolitan multiculturalism  is helpful at this point. Whereas both forms share the idea that America should be hospitable to a diversity of ethnoracially specific cultures, pluralist multiculturalism tends to “depict society as an expanse of internally homogeneous and analogically structured units, each possessed of a comparable myth of diaspora.” In contrast, the cosmopolitan form shows greater consciousness of the voluntariness of individuals’ affiliation with the group and of each group’s dynamic interrelationships with more embracing communities, including the neighborhood, city, and America as a whole.
In Hollinger’s terms, the organizations described here are more pluralist than cosmopolitan. Their programs and discourse include relatively little about “America as a whole,” about American public life and culture, or about Chicago and the neighborhoods of Rogers Parks. Even the fact that these neighborhoods, because of their diversity and tolerance, include all these groups, without any of them appearing conspicuous, is taken for granted. Our research revealed no programs of education about the other religions and ethnoracial groups in the neighborhood, no intergroup visits or exchanges of musicians or instructors. An interfaith Thanksgiving service — a holdover from a period of much less diversity — was the only joint project during the time of our research. (Since then, an interfaith antihunger project has been developed, and an interfaith agency, the Council for a Parliament of the World’s Religions, has organized interfaith dialogues.) United Church, and to a lesser extent, Good News and Saint Jerome, embody a cosmopolitan vision by including multiple ethnoracial groups in the same congregation and by symbolically expressing the unity of different groups through worship, education, and, in the case of Saint Jerome, through the doctrine of the inclusive territorial parish. But as we have seen, even the most cosmopolitan groups achieve their unity by creating separate enclaves in which groups differentiate themselves by race, ethnicity, language, ideology, and sexual orientation.
Yet within the religiously based ethnoracial enclaves we have seen cultural formation that, however differentiated from the wider society, is what much of the wider society claims to want. These groups are building their capacities of moral discourse, forming themselves as morally self-conscious and mutually accountable communities. More ethnically differentiated groups may be, or are trying to be, “communities of memory,” constructing shared narratives based on common experiences and using inherited cultural material that they select and adapt according to the criteria of their religious traditions. The United Church, Good News, and Saint Jerome (when it acts as a whole) are ethnically diverse and thus depend more on theological and ideological principles than on shared narrative as a basis for moral formation. Nevertheless, we found all the congregations calling their members to accountability for their relationships and participation in community. If these groups did not, for the most part, define or “socially construct” the wider communities, neither did they allow the individual members to think they were sufficient unto themselves.
Rogers Parks has a variety of enclaves for the variety of people who live there. It appeals to people looking for cosmopolitan urbanity, a dense street life, but not the sort that is conceded to toughs. The area is accessible to families as well as singles. It is attractive to people who want more independence and personal freedom than a family neighborhood in the suburbs or some other parts of the city offer. Its enclaves are real, but they are not ghettos. And while the religious organizations help create and perpetuate the enclaves, they also help ensure that they are defined by the concentration and cultural self-identification of similar people, not by the exclusion or subordination of others.
Lowell W. Livezey has been the Director and Principal Investigator of the Religion in Urban America Program at the University of Illinois at Chicago from its inception in 1992.
(1.) Robert E. Park and Ernest W. Burgess, The City (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1925).
(2.) Richard P. Taub, D. Garth Taylor, and Jan D. Dunham, Paths of Neighborhood Change: Race and Crime in Urban America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), especially chap. 7.
(3.) See David D. Daniels III, “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me ‘Round: The Politics of Race and the New Black Middle-Class Religion”; Janise D. Hurtig, “Hispanic Immigrant Churches and the Construction of Ethnicity”; and Elfriede Wedam, “God Doesn’t Ask What Language I Pray In: Community and Culture on Chicago’s Southwest Side,” in Public Religion and Urban Transformation, ed. Lowell W. Livezey (New York: New York University Press, 2000). See also Dominic A. Pacyga and Ellen Skerrett, Chicago: City of Neighborhoods (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1986).
(4.) “Racially and Ethnically Diverse Urban Neighborhoods,” Cityscape: A Journal of Policy and Research 4, no. 2 (1998): 23-24 and 131-60.
(5.) Kirsten A. Gronbjerg et al., Rogers Park: A Tradition of Diversity — Laying the Foundation for Economic Development, Loyola University, Chicago, November 1993.
(6.) Chicago Fact Book Consortium, Local Community Fact Book, Chicago Metropolitan Area: Based on the 1980 Census (Chicago: Chicago Review, 1985), and Chicago Fact Book Consortium, Local Community Fact Book, Chicago Metropolitan Area 1990 (Chicago: Academy Chicago, 1995), which report U.S. Census data.
(7.) Iris Marion Young, Justice and the Politics of Difference Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1990).
(8.) David A. Hollinger, Postethnic America: Beyond Multiculturalism (New York: Basic Books, 1995).
(9.) Lawrence H. Fuchs, The American Kaleidoscope: Race, Ethnicity, and the Civic Culture (Hanover, N.H.: Wesleyan University Press, 1990), 77-79.
(10.) Arthur M. Schlesinger, The Disuniting of America: Reflections on a Multicultural Society (New York: W. W. Norton, 1992); Todd Gitlin, The Twilight of Common Dreams: Why America Is Wracked by Culture Wars (New York: Metropolitan Books-Henry Holt, 1995).
(11.) For discussion of the cultural production of religion, see Robert Wuthnow, Producing the Sacred (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1994); on cultural production of race and ethnicity, see Michael Omi and Howard Winant, Racial Formation in the United States: From the 1960’s to the 1990’s (New York: Routledge, 1994).
(12.) Pacyga and Skerrett, Chicago, 146-47.
(13.) Jewish Federation of Metropolitan Chicago, “Fact Sheet” based on the federation’s 1990 study, Chicago, 1992.
(14.) For the historical context and description, see Irving Cutler, The Jews of Chicago: From Shtetl to Suburb (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1996), esp. 249-54.
(15.) Marshall Sklare, “The Conservative Movement: Achievements and Problems,” in the Jewish Community in America, ed. Marshall Sklare (New York: Behrman House, 1974), points out that the Conservative movement pioneered the “synagogue center,” which offered social and recreational activities.
(16.) Robert N. Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Commitment in American Life (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), 152-53.
(17.) Nathan Glazer, American Judaism, 2d rev. ed., The Chicago History of American Civilization, ed. Daniel J. Boorstin (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989), 172; see also 183-186.
(18.) M. Herbert Danzger, Returning to Tradition: The Contemporary Revival of Orthodox Judaism (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1989); Glazer, American Judaism, introduction, offers a more qualified view.
(19.) Martin A. Cohen and Abraham J. Peck, eds., Sephardim in the Americas: Studies in Culture and History (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1993), especially part 3. On the Sephardim in Chicago, see Cutler, Jews of Chicago, 90, 196; and Walter P. Zenner, “Chicago’s Sephardim: A Historical Exploration,” Chicago Jewish History 12, no. 3 (March 1989).
(20.) On the traditional parish in racially changing contexts, see John McGreevy, Parish Boundaries: The Catholic Encounter with Race in the Twentieth-Century Urban North (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996).
(21.) For an enumeration of mosques and their ethnic concentrations in the Chicago area, see Paul D. Numrich, “Facing Northeast in a Midwestern Metropolis: The Growth of Islam and the Challenge of the Ummatic Ideal in Chicago,” in a book forthcoming from the Auburn Project on the History of Religion and Urban America, 1875–present, Auburn Theological Seminary, New York; on Muslim immigrants generally, see Yvonne Yazbeck Haddad, ed., The Muslims of America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991).
(22.) Raymond Brady Williams, Religions of Immigrants from India and Pakistan: New Threads in the American Tapestry (New York and Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 129-37 and 234.
(23.) Ibid., 234.
(24.) Nathan Glazer, We Are All Multiculturalists Now (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997).
(25.) Taub, Taylor, and Durham, Paths of Neighborhood Change, 142.
(26.) Hollinger, Postethnic America, introduction and chap. 4. Following quote from p. 12.
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