By: Fern Sidman

In a move that preservationists say reflects the erasure of immigrant heritage in favor of real estate profits, a century-old former synagogue in Manhattan’s East Village is slated for demolition to make way for six upscale condominium units. As was reported by The New York Post on Friday, the building at 256 East 4th Street, once a spiritual and cultural haven for Ukrainian Jewish immigrants, will soon be reduced to rubble—an outcome that has drawn sharp criticism from historic preservation advocates.

Originally erected in 1925, the building served as the synagogue for the Lemberger Congregation, a religious and community hub for immigrants from Lemberg—present-day Lviv, Ukraine. The structure has borne silent witness to nearly a century of demographic and cultural shifts in the neighborhood. However, preservationists argue that the city’s latest development trajectory is quickly burying this living history beneath glass-and-steel modernity.

“This vintage house of worship doesn’t have a prayer,” The New York Post reported, capturing the frustration of activists who see this demolition as another chapter in the slow dismantling of the East Village’s rich immigrant past.

According to the information provided in The New York Post report, the site transitioned from a synagogue to a Spanish-language Baptist church, known as Iglesia Bautista Emmanuel, in the 1970s—a transformation marked by the replacement of the Star of David on the building’s rondel with a Christian cross. The church served the local Hispanic community for decades before selling the property in November 2023 to developer Ariel Sholomov for $2.95 million.

Now, the property is set to be demolished to accommodate six luxury condominiums. Although unit prices have yet to be released, comparable one-bedroom condos in the neighborhood currently list between $1.2 million and $2.1 million, according to data cited by The New York Post via StreetEasy.

The impending demolition has ignited public backlash, particularly from Village Preservation, an advocacy group long involved in protecting the architectural and cultural legacy of downtown Manhattan. Andrew Berman, the group’s executive director, told The New York Post, “Pieces of the building will survive, but none of the façade.” He lamented that what should be a commemorative preservation of the site’s layered history is instead becoming yet another exercise in architectural amnesia.

“There is this memory of, and connection to, this very rich history—but instead, here they just want to destroy it and start over again, which is a shame,” Berman added.

The organization had previously submitted a proposal in 2019 to the Landmarks Preservation Commission (LPC), urging the creation of a new East Village Historic District encompassing the synagogue and other architecturally significant sites along Avenues B and C. But according to The New York Post, the LPC never moved the proposal forward—not even bringing it to a hearing—despite similar designations being long established in neighborhoods like Greenwich Village and the Upper East Side.

The project’s architect, Stephen Conte, defended the decision to raze the structure, telling The New York Post that decades of water damage had compromised the already-thin front walls, rendering the façade structurally unsound and unsafe. “We’re going to see if there are any interior design elements we can keep that don’t have any toxic materials or mold,” Conte said, noting the possible retention of items like stained glass windows and wooden doors.

In an attempt to offer some architectural continuity, Conte said the new building will feature a red brick exterior to maintain a contextual look on the block. However, he also pointed to broader technical constraints in balancing preservation with modern energy standards. “Building preservation is getting trickier,” he said, referring to the city’s push toward zero-emission electricity goals. He explained that older façades often allow too much air leakage, making it difficult to meet insulation requirements for modern, energy-efficient buildings.

But for Berman and other preservationists, these justifications fall flat. “It’s virtually never impossible to reuse and preserve a façade,” Berman countered, as reported by The New York Post. “Even if there was damage, nothing like that is unfixable. Clearly respecting that history was not a priority for them.”

“They basically sat on it and ignored it,” Berman said bluntly, describing a multi-year campaign that has yet to see any meaningful action from the city’s primary preservation agency. “We’re now waging a campaign to try to get them to refocus their attention on this area,” he added, signaling a renewed push to bring the issue back into the public spotlight.

According to The New York Post, a representative from the LPC defended the agency’s selective approach to landmarking, stating that while public input is welcome, the agency itself is responsible for identifying and prioritizing buildings and neighborhoods for designation. Yet Berman and others argue that this approach allows potentially irreplaceable structures to fall through the cracks, particularly in neighborhoods like the East Village where real estate developers are eager to build without regulatory constraints.

“This is a part of town that real estate interests have a great desire to have as free a hand as possible,” Berman told The New York Post. He emphasized that the city’s failure to act amounts to de facto endorsement of those development pressures, even at the cost of erasing deep-rooted immigrant, cultural, and artistic histories.

“There’s really hundreds of buildings that we would argue are of some historic significance in the East Village that don’t enjoy landmark protection at all,” Berman said. He pointed to high-profile examples such as the New York Eye and Ear Infirmary and Theatre 80 on St. Mark’s Place—both of which lack protection despite their historic and architectural value.

While the fate of 256 East 4th Street shines a spotlight on the city’s shortcomings, Berman acknowledged that there are some instances where adaptive reuse and preservation have successfully coexisted. As cited by The New York Post, buildings such as 242 East 7th Street and 638 East 6th Street—both former houses of worship—have been repurposed into residential and community spaces while retaining their original facades and architectural character.

Similarly, the Congregation Mezritch Synagogue at 415 East 6th Street stands as a testament to what is possible when preservation efforts are taken seriously. Though the structure was converted into luxury condominiums, its basement-level synagogue space was preserved, thanks to landmark status that provided a legal buffer against total redevelopment.

“Life in our city sometimes is complicated, but sometimes it takes complex solutions to get the best results,” Berman remarked, emphasizing the importance of nuanced preservation strategies that can balance modern needs with historical integrity.

Despite these success stories, Berman warned that the broader trajectory remains troubling. “There are many, many other places in the East Village connected to immigrant history, cultural history, labor history, and musical history that, without landmark designation, could disappear tomorrow,” he told The New York Post. His comments serve as a stark reminder that the city’s historic fabric—especially in neighborhoods built by working-class and immigrant communities—remains vulnerable to economic pressures and institutional neglect.

As demolition crews prepare to dismantle yet another chapter of New York’s immigrant past, preservationists say the time for piecemeal efforts has passed. They are calling for a comprehensive, citywide commitment to landmarking and adaptive reuse—one that doesn’t merely preserve buildings, but the layered stories, cultures, and communities that built them.