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Last Spoleto, there were numerous interruptions. There was the insistent ring during a seminal leap in a dance. There was the dog bark ringtone ruining a reflective experimental jazz piece. A rock 'n' blare sounded during a solo at a chamber music concert.

If you are honest with yourself today, I suspect you sometimes recognize the deceptive voice of privilege. It’s the voice we use when we insist that people accept us simply because we’re a Christian, or because our family is rich, or because we speak English or because we are tall white men. Or because we are a chaplain.

Not that I’m the most literate type, but at some point or other most people probably find themselves asking what is THE Great American Novel. There’s no simple answer because the idea of what …