I received a letter from a reader of my recent column on the Jena Six, a group of black teenagers arrested for beating a white classmate who taunted them with racial slurs. The reader said: "There is a cry for justice when minorities are the victims of crimes. There is a cry of injustice when minorities are the perpetrators of crime. If anyone objects to either of these models, they must be the white moderates more devoted to 'order' than to justice."

When the reader went on to accuse me of "perpetrating and encouraging another 'no win' racism scenario with the self-endowed rights" of those who see themselves as victims no matter what, he inadvertently brought to my mind a larger issue that goes beyond the Jena Six case and the like. It is this:

Diverse societies have no trusted mechanism for allowing their members to reveal, let alone work through, erroneous or valid beliefs about one another without oftentimes severe penalties, derailed careers and relationships. Whites in particular are hesitant to say anything critical of people of color for fear of accusations of being racist.

While my reader is an exception to this rule, bless him, countless others are not. Rather than express their frustration, resentment or desire for understanding, they keep it inside where it weighs on their spirit.

The late Bishop Kenneth Untener of Saginaw, Mich., in a 1991 address to priests on their prophetic role of speaking God's hard truth, articulated this frustration: "In an age of laity, I am a priest. In an age of feminism, I am a man. Blacks call for justice, and I am white. Hispanics assert their rights, and I am Anglo. ... Whenever a minority or an oppressed group steps forward, I am identified with the oppressor. It doesn't matter how I feel about the issues. ...

"But I can't change the color of my skin, and I don't want to stop being a priest. So I take it, and you take it. ... But it's hard never, ever to be identified with the right side."

Bishop Untener also reminded his fellow priests, "You have to preach the hard message, but you also have to be the pastor of the whole parish community. You are not a specialist. You are the servant-leader of everyone."

This remarkable bishop who sold his residence to live as a guest in various rectories for more than two decades gave his life in service to others. Yet he was constantly aware that he ministered in a society where discussions of racial perceptions are either hushed or screamed.

I believe, however, there should be a middle ground, a place where people who are serious about understanding those different from themselves can speak openly about race-related issues that concern them.

What's a person to do who has negative images of others or of himself fixed in his mind? Can he never talk about them? What do we do with people who are so weary of cries of discrimination that they fail to hear any truth in many of these cries?

I am not suggesting that we let disturbing comments flow unabated. What I am calling for is a more realistic approach to attitudes that took a long time to form and may take more time to reform.

Do we want understanding or is it much more satisfying to tear our shrouds and point fingers?

For starters, I think we must listen to them in parish forums or other gatherings --- thicken our skin if need be, but hear them out.

It is what servant-leaders in their communities do.

Carole Norris Greene is a columnist with Catholic News Service.