So much privilege. So many ‘first world’ problems.

 

I live and work in a developed country.  I have a private university education, I have a laptop and a cellphone, I am from an upper class economic background, am white and hold an American passport.  Yes, I am privileged. Very privileged. And am also privileged to have the funding and the connections to have traveled to and be present at the General Conference of the United Methodist Church here in Tampa, Florida.

Now, perhaps it is because I spend nearly every-day with children, youth, families, and coworkers who are underprivileged. Many receive governmental social benefits. Many are underpaid for the work they do. Some are forced to work for inadequate wages. Many are fighting for their rights to become German citizens. Some are focused on how they will make ends meet to pay the rent, what they will eat for dinner, or who will care for their child the next day.

Even in a developed country, these are not ‘first world’ problems. And so my perspective is a bit different.

Returning back to the states is always a bit difficult for me. My reverse culture shock of everything being larger, not being able to always sort my trash in public locations, the indirectness (and sometimes superficiality) with which Americans speak with one another, and the insensitivity for the global community is almost always at the core of my resentment of such reentry. While being at General Conference has made for a different sort of ‘reentry’ into the church world and the United Methodist world, rather than the everyday ‘American world,’ it has brought its own struggles.

In the past week, I have seen more iPads, Laptops, iPhones, and Blackberries than I have likely seen in the past 10 months combined. I have seen more people (both young and old) reliant, dependent on cell phones, internet access, and constant interactive social media communication than I have seen since my time as an undergraduate. I have heard delegates comment about being unwilling to forfeit their ‘nap’ or ‘lunch’ time for the sake of expediting and expanding upon the work that they are actually here to complete. I have had more conversations with people that are based on a clear delineation of ‘us’ and ‘them’ language, regardless of where on the political and theological spectrum such individuals fall. I am also guilty of slipping into the use of such language and others of these cultural actions, mannerisms, and prioritizations.

These are all signs of privilege. Signs of our ‘concerns,’ our ‘problems,’ our absorption and our priorities in a developed country. Where  a cell phone battery dying can be a disappointment, having to wait too long in line can be an annoyance, and not knowing what to wear in the morning, a crisis.

But, in the big scheme of things, are these things that actually matter? If we are so busy with these everyday crises, then how can we acknowledge, embrace, and move beyond our privilege, particularly as a national and global church, to recognize the needs of others, to engage in both charity and justice, and to recognize each individual in this world as our neighbor, whom we shall love?