My brother Mark over at Jesus Manifesto posted a short but incisive and strong reflection on being white in America, titled A Mountain of Bones – see link below.
Mark, as a brown brother I want to applaud your honesty and openness. By the way just like in Ezekiel, I can hear the rumble of the drums, the songs and the dance of the bones coming back with life.
A Mountain of Bones : Jesus Manifesto
I live at the pinnacle of a great mountain of the bones of the oppressed. Native Americans and African Americans and Latino Americans and others died to give their bones to my mountain. As a white man in the Americas, I was born profoundly privileged…even though I grew up in the lower class or at least lower-middle class. My place in the world (and in the Church) is lofty.
The land for my mountain was taken from Native Americans–like the Ojibwe and Sioux. The foundation was laid, in part, by the sweat and blood of African slaves. And every week a Latino gardener comes to tend the shrubs and flowers at my home on the pinnacle of my mountain.