Michael Brown on Confessions of a White, Heterosexual Male

I confess. I am guilty. Guilty as charged. No, guilty by birth. I am, after all, a white male. What could be worse than that?

It doesn’t matter that my father’s parents came to America as poor Russian immigrants, my grandfather dying in his 40s from cancer, related to unsafe work conditions as a painter. Or that my father became his family’s breadwinner when he was only 11 years old, then worked his way through college and law school.

It doesn’t matter that my mother immigrated from England as a little girl after her mother died and her father abandoned the family, to be raised here by relatives.

No. I am white. Therefore I am privileged. Therefore I am guilty.

It doesn’t matter that my father was a liberal Democrat, as “tolerant” as can be by today’s standards.

That’s why my first organ teacher, when I was barely 7 years old, was an openly gay man, and he and his partner would often stay for dinner with our family.

And that’s why my second organ teacher, a few years later, was a black man married to a white woman.

My father bemoaned the fact that they had family members and friends turn against them because of their interracial marriage, asking out loud how people could be so cruel. They, too, were frequently dinner guests at our house.

But none of that matters. I am white. My parents were white. Therefore they were guilty too.

Of course, the fact that my parents were Jewish and that I’m a Jewish believer in Jesus counts for nothing.

To the contrary, Jews are the worst supremacists of all, plotting to take over the world and responsible for all the world’s evils today.

This only makes me guiltier. I have so much confession to make!

To be sure, there are some things that puzzle me. For example, if we Jews control the world, why can’t we stop people from slaughtering us and exiling us?

But it’s silly of me even to ask such questions. The answers are obviously above my paygrade. After all, I’m just a white male.

Of course, it doesn’t matter that the church I served in from 1977-1982 not only cared for the local poor but sponsored refugees from Vietnam and then Ethiopia, inviting many of them to live in our homes for years, becoming part of our families. In fact, when the Rev. John Perkins, a true, Christian social justice warrior, came to speak for us, he admitted that he could not get angry with us. We shared his heart.

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SOURCE: Christian Post, Michael Brown