Our nation's legacy of racism and race relations leaves us with much work to be done together, today.
Having spent some time considering James Cone's theological reflections (here and here) on the connection between the Christian cross and the southern lynching tree -- ironically and hypocritically, the form of execution adopted by whites who claimed to be Christians -- I will conclude by simply sharing the lyrics to the moving song, Strange Fruit...
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.













