It is probably old age, or something like that, but lately I’ve noticed that one of my shoulders is frequently stiff and when I am lifting a big canoe over my head it takes a bit more effort to raise it to the top of the car than was the case some years ago. It is not a problem, really, but accepting limitations isn’t my long suit, so I’ve been trying to exercise appropriately in an attempt to build up the strength in my shoulders. I have an excellent rowing machine in my basement and rowing is great exercise for shoulders, but who can sit inside on a machine when it is summer in the Black Hills? So I’ve been rising very early and going paddling before work.

The motion of a double paddle is so similar to the natural stretch that we all do when we rise, that I figure it must be good, light-impact exercise for the shoulders. I have a small canoe that I made back in 1988 which is light weight (no shoulder strain lifting it on and off of the car) and easy to paddle with a double paddle. It is perfect for calm waters.

Our reservoirs get plenty of use here in the hills, but I have discovered that I can almost always have them to myself if I get out by 5 am.

Yesterday was a wonderful morning to paddle. There had been some thunderstorms through the hills overnight and the humidity was high. With the temperature cool, the dew point was just right for mist rising off of the lake. I love to paddle in the mist, at least on a lake that is familiar. The camera cuts through the haze and it looks like you can see better than is the case when you are paddling out there. The seating position in the little canoe is on the bottom, so I always feel as if I were sitting on the surface of the water. It is a great vantage point for surveying the ducks and geese and herons.

As I paddled away from the shore and into the mist, I was dressed in a short sleeved t-shirt. My life vest gives extra insulation, but I felt a little chilly as I paddled. I tried hard to pay attention to what it felt like, so that I could remember when the thermometer would pass eighty later in the day. I’m not very good at remembering temperatures.

There was a light breeze, just enough to keep the mists swirling and provide a slight texture to the water, but not enough to make paddling a challenge in any direction. Since I had the lake to myself, I paddled up toward where the creek empties into the reservoir. The mists gave the deer a sense of security and they didn’t seem to mind my paddling by as they came down to the water’s edge to drink. The morning was still and hushed. Even the geese were being quiet and the red winged blackbirds weren’t yet filling the cattails at water’s edge with their chatter. It would have been a great morning to see the beaver, but he was nowhere to be found as I paddled around.

There is so much pleasure that a small boat on a mountain lake can give.

My next door neighbor has a large fiberglass waterski boat with an inboard engine. It sits on a tandem trailer in his back yard. It has yet to have left the yard this year. I know that they are planning an excursion for this weekend’s 4th of July holiday because the cover has been rolled back from the boat and the back of his car is filled with life jackets, fenders and other boating gear. I hope that they really have fun with the boat this weekend. Perhaps a gang of people will be going out together for boating and skiing and a picnic.

I just don’t feel any need for such a boat. I have a tandem canoe for times when I want to take another family member or two with me. We can take more than one boat if there are enough of us. My boats were home made and the cedar and glue that I use aren’t all that expensive. I’m confident that all of my boats combined (and I do have more than any one person could need) are worth significantly less than my neighbor’s boat.

Still, I get a lot more boating in each year than he. And I have a lot more fun with my boats. In a way it seems a bit sad to me that he doesn’t get out to enjoy his boat more often. After all he lives just as close to the lake as I.

Still, I’m grateful that there aren’t too many people who want to rise before the sun to go paddling. I like to have the lake to myself.

There is something about the constant changing of light and shape and mist in the hour before the sun peeks over the horizon and floods the lake with its brightness. The reflections in the water are a bit softer, the colors are mostly pastel, the sounds seem muted. It is a perfect setting to let go of any worries one might usually carry and simply enjoy a few moments of solitude.

Whether or not it is true, I have convinced myself that I am more productive on the days that I paddle. I make sure that my paddling doesn’t decrease the number of hours I am serving my congregation and I’ve discovered that some of my most creative thoughts and best sermon ideas come on days when I take time to listen and appreciate the glory of God’s creation.

It may well be that the best advice I could give another boater is to consider getting a smaller boat. At least for me one of my smallest boats seems to get the most water under its keel each year.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I confess that I’m a bit of a news junkie. I like to scan the headlines from several world news sites every day. I try to keep up not only with the headlines, but also with several different perspectives. I’ve grown to appreciate the perspectives of BBC and of the English language site of Harriez, the Israeli news site. I generally scan the Washington Post as well as news sites from Costa Rica and Australia. I’m starting to become familiar with the English language version of The Japan Times now that our daughter will be moving to Japan at the end of the year. And, I usually scan the New York Times at least once a day.

It was scanning the New York Times last night that I discovered a fairly lengthy and detailed guide, written by Elaine Glusac, on what to do when a Wild Animal Attacks. I would think that wild animal attacks are relatively rare in New York City, but I guess that the residents of New York travel quite a bit. The article includes advice on mountain lion attacks based on literature from the Mountain Lion foundation. I basically knew the information. Stand tall. Open your coat and raise your arms to make yourself look bigger. Maintain eye contact. Speak firmly. Throw objects at the mountain lion. Don’t run. If attacked, fight back. Punch the animal in the ribs and head.

The truth is that I grew up in Montana and I’ve lived in the Black Hills for more than two decades. I’ve seen a mountain lion in the wild a total of two times in my life. Both times I was in a car and the animal was moving away from me at a pretty good pace. I’m not saying that an encounter with a mountain lion is impossible, I just think it is rare.

About 20 people have been killed by mountain lions in the past century. To put it in perspective, fatal bee stings are far more common than mountain lion encounters.

Still the New York Times has advice on mountain lion attacks.

The article didn’t have any advice on encounters with buffalo, but it seems to me that we hear more about people who are gored by buffalo (American bison) each year than about other animal attacks. They move a lot faster and are a lot more easily agitated than most people think. I’ve witnessed some pretty stupid behavior by people trying to get pictures of buffalo.

There was no information on what to do if you sight a rattlesnake, something that is fairly common around here. We haven’t had one in our yard yet, but I know it is possible. We’ve seen a fair number of them on hikes around the plains and hills. On the other hand, they aren’t as dangerous as we’ve been led to believe. With all of the excellent medical care available, people rarely die from snake bite. I once read that only one in 50 million people will die from snakebite, which doesn’t exactly strike fear into my heart.

The article didn’t have much advice on deer, either. We have plenty of deer in our back yard. While there is an occasional report of someone being stabbed by antlers or cut up by deer hooves, the most dangerous behavior of wild deer has to do with standing in the middle of the road. More than 100 people are killed in car and motorcycle accidents involving deer every year.

I suspect that the most dangerous wild animal in our part of the world is probably the mosquito. We don’t have any reports of Zika virus around here yet, but there have been some pretty serious cases of West Nile in our community.

At any rate, you can read in the New York Times about what to do in the event of several other types of animal attacks. I’ve read about bear attacks in the past. I get the part of playing dead once the bear has actually bitten or clawed you. I think that would require a significant amount of self discipline, but fear can help you do things that you might think otherwise are impossible. The main thing with bears is avoiding the attack in the first place. I’ve done a fair amount of hiking in bear country and simply making noise can help the bear to see you. We used to hang a metal Sierra cup on our backpacks where they would bang against the frame to make noise. There are those who believe in bear bells. Basically walking with friends and talking works pretty good. According to the New York Times pepper spray is a good thing to carry in bear country. I can’t argue with that. They also recommend it for mountain lion attacks. All I’ve got to say is that if the bear is close enough for pepper spray to work, that’s way closer than I’d like to see a bear.

I also read about repelling sharks. It says to pound on the nose or scratch its eyes. Eye poking is also recommended for alligator attacks. It doesn’t say what works for crocodile attacks, and I thought that I once read that crocodiles are more likely to attack humans than alligators. I’m not sure i’d pause long enough to tell the difference if one was attacking, however. The recent tragedy in Orlando with the little boy and the alligator is frightening enough to make one think that it is a good idea to avoid the waterfront in the evening and morning hours and to keep small children away at all times.

According to Google, the ten most dangerous animals are (in order from least to most dangerous): Cape Buffalo, Cone Snail, Golden Poison Dart Frog, Box Jellyfish, Puffer Fish, Black Mamba Snake, Saltwater Crocodiles, Tsetse Fly, Mosquitoes and Humans. There wasn’t any advice about any of those animals in the New York Times article. I would have thought they’d want to provide special attention to the last one on the list. After all sightings of those beasts are fairly common in New York City.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

Last week, Krista Tippett, host of “On Being” interviewed Pauline Boss. Boss is Professor Emerita at the University of Minnesota. She has written several books on trauma, loss, dementia, and other topics. Her 1999 book, “Ambiguous Loss” has become a staple in the field of family counseling. Early in the interview she said something that I believe is essential to the way I think about grief and loss. “There is no such thing as closure. We have to live with loss, clear or ambiguous. And it’s OK. It’s OK. And it’s OK to see people who are hurting and just to say something simple. ‘I’m so sorry.’ You don’t have to say more than that.”

“There is no such thing as closure. We have to live with loss, clear or ambiguous.”

Our society has been selling the myth of closure for so many years that people have begun to believe it. It is true that no one can describe exactly where closure comes in the case of the death of a loved one. Some say that the burial and committal service bring closure. It is often argued that, in the case of a murder, the death of the murderer brings closure. Closure is one of the arguments offered in favor of capital punishment. The problem is that the death of someone you love is not something that you can get over.

Last Saturday, I was visiting with a couple whose son died three years ago. They were talking about him, remembering some of the good times that they had together and the subject, while bringing up joy, also renewed their sense of pain and loss. There were some tears as I asked about him. There are some who say that I shouldn’t have engaged in such conversation three years after the event. But I knew that they would be thinking of that topic this week as they face the anniversary and in the past they have been very grateful that I am willing to talk about their loss long after it has become a topic to avoid by so many of their friends and acquaintances. “Sometimes,” the mother said, “it seems like the rest of the world has forgotten him.”

I repeated what I have said many times to them over the past three years. “This is not something that you can get over. It is something that you have to get through.”

Since that conversation, I’ve had a serious conversation with a widow who lost her husband only three weeks ago and another widow whose husband died two weeks ago. For them the loss is fresh and the wound is deep and tender. They haven’t had much time to heal. The memory of the funeral is still very close to their consciousness. I don’t have many words to offer to them, simply a hug and a reminder that I care and that I appreciate the pain that they are going through.

It is a pain I can’t quite imagine. I have not had to face the loss of my wife.

It was 46 years ago that my sister died. A lot has happened in those years. I married. We graduated from college and graduate school and formed our careers. My father died. We had children. Our children grew up. We became grandparents. My brother died. My mother died. I have officiated at hundreds of funerals and been involved in hundreds of death notifications to family members. I have watched the process of grief from many different perspectives. I have grown gray and nearly white. But I have never forgotten my sister. I have never lost the sense of pain that came with her death. I have never forgotten how it seemed to redefine our family. These are things that I will carry with me all of my life and they are part of the legacy that I have passed on to our children.

There is no closure. You have to learn to live with grief and loss.

I don’t think this is a bad thing. Our lives are permanently affected by the relationships we have. When you love, it changes everything. When you experience the death of a loved one, your world can’t go back to “normal.” Things don’t return to the way that they were. You have to discover a new normal - the normal of living with grief.

It is a cruel twist of language to talk to people about closure as if there will come a day when they will get over the pain of their loss.

Recently I was recalling a dinner I attended about 40 years ago. I was a young man, just a few years into being married. We were students in graduate school and for some reason we were asked to sit at table with a retiring professor and his wife at their retirement dinner given by the seminary. Our selection to sit at the head table was probably based on the fact that my wife, Susan, had been assistant director in the preschool founded by the wife of the seminary professor, which had been closed by the school earlier that year. I was sad, and a little bit angry over the retirement of the professor. He was one of the main reasons I had chosen that school and I felt that he had been pushed to retire by an administration bent on making changes, not all of which were positive in terms of maintaining a first-rate department of Christian Education. There I was at the table, between the wife of the professor and the wife of the president of the seminary. The wife of the seminary president was trying to command my attention with conversation that, frankly, wasn’t very interesting to me. I was caught up in my grief and she was trying to make me feel better by changing the subject.

I remember the event so clearly and now I understand that I was grieving and that she was trying to provide a simple solution and to take away my grief. Despite the fact that grief can sometimes make friends and others uncomfortable, taking away one’s grief is a cruel response. Grief is a natural process and worthy of our attention.

If you are called to be with someone who is grieving, don’t promise that they will get over it. Don’s promise that they’ll feel better some day. Don’t promise anything. If you don’t know what to say, say nothing. Allow grief to take its own pace. And don’t promise that closure will come. It is a myth that is best avoided.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I’m familiar with the term “buyer’s remorse.” I’ve experienced it on several occasions. The anticipation of having something new can sometimes cloud one’s judgment and after the purchase is made, you wonder whether or not you made the right decision. After all, there are many things I have purchased that in retrospect, I have discovered that I didn’t really need. Not every product lives up to the descriptions made by advertisers. I have been surprised by the details I didn’t notice when I was shopping that seem so apparent after the purchase has been made.

There are some in Great Britain who are experiencing a similar phenomenon. I guess you could call it voter’s remorse. On talk shows across Britain this past weekend, leaders of the “leave” movement were backing off of the promises made during the campaign.

One of the promises of the campaign was that the money that Britain sent to the European Union would be invested in Britain’s National Health Service. The leave campaign had a big red bus with “We send the EU £350 million, let’s fund our NHS instead.” painted on the outside. However, Nigel Farage, one of the leading voices calling for Britain’s exit from the European Union, appeared on “Good Morning Britain” and called that promise a “mistake.” It appears that the £350 million won’t be going to fund the NHS. Ian Duncan Smith, another “leave” campaigner, said on “The Andrew Marr Show” that the figure itself was an “extrapolation” and that the campaign had never said all the money would go to the NHS, despite the advertisements and big bus.

It appears that the anti-immigration sentiment of the campaign might not find much traction in the real world now that the vote has taken place. “Leave” campaigner Nigel Evans was interviewed on BBC Radio 5. The interviewer asked about the mechanism to decrease immigration now that the vote had taken place . Evans refused to confirm that there would be a decrease in immigration. He said that there is a difference between “controlling” immigration and having actual numbers of immigrants decline.

Britain has experienced some very tough economic times and some of its citizens are experiencing poverty that isn’t easily abated. The 1970’s and 1980’s saw mass layoffs in many industries in Britain and in the decades that have followed the poverty has become entrenched. Those people living in poverty were among the most ardent supporters of the “leave” campaign. They were desperate for change but the promises of great cost savings and a decrease in immigration that would result in more jobs for British citizens, seem now to be far from being fulfilled as Britain tries to figure out how to govern its widely divided population. With leaders of the campaign backing off from the promises made during the campaign and great uncertainty about how to accomplish the departure from the EU, it is beginning to appear that the promises will be the first things to be left behind and the conditions of Britain’s most impoverished citizens will be forgotten in the political arguments.

Of course it is early. It would be premature to make any predictions. There are some difficult and serious negations that have to be made to define the new relationship with Europe. The funds in the European Union didn’t just flow one direction. Britain will not only gain the money that was sent to support the Union, it will also lose the support that came from the Union. New treaties have to be negotiated and the terms of the exit will have to be worked out. Not everything is as simple as it seemed during the campaign.

I’m no expert, just a casual observer who has been reading the British press for some time. From my perspective it is interesting because I think that the phenomenon of people voting against their own best interests is very common. Not long ago I read Facebook posts from an hourly wage earner who was arguing against a raise in the minimum wage. His argument was that he had worked hard to get from minimum wage to his current pay level and it isn’t fair that new workers should make more than he does now. He couldn’t see the benefits that he would realize if wages went up. Henry Ford, not a proponent of higher wages, discovered that there were great financial advantages to the entire economy when the workers in his factories were paid enough to be able to afford to purchase the automobiles they were manufacturing. Selling more automobiles was good for Ford. The same principle applies today. The owners of Wal-Mart might think that they are “winning” when their employees use food stamps to shop at their stores, but in the long run, people not having enough money to purchase the products you sell is not good for business.

In 1 Samuel the elders of Israel approached Samuel at Ramah and asked him to appoint a king. Samuel is disappointed in the request and prays about it. He tells the people that a king will take away their sons to serve in his armies, will take over their land to fund his needs, and will take the best of the produce and flocks. The people, however, don’t listen to Samuel’s arguments. They want a king so that they can be like other nations. They want a king to fight their battles for them. Samuel prays again and gives in and appoints Saul as king. All of the predictions Samuel makes come true and after a few kings and a string of failed monarchies Israel is divided and finally conquered. It turns out that having a king wasn’t one of the ways to achieve peace and justice for Israel. But it was the demand of the people.

Sometimes the people call for things that aren’t in their best interest. Leaders, even Samuel, however, cannot ignore the will of the people.

As a tumultuous campaign continues in our nation and the claims of the politicians become more and more extreme, I wonder if we are heading to a time of voter’s remorse in our own nation. It is hard for an average citizen to know what is in the best interests of the nation in the midst of such a clamor of political rhetoric.

Like Samuel, I think the first step for us should be to pray.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

We’ve been working on preparations for our annual Vacation Bible School. VBS is a fun and exciting time in our church. We have an opportunity to work with children for five nights in a row. Our program features a family meal, crafts, games, stories, songs and more. We try to take advantage of the opportunity, knowing that this block of time for teaching and learning is precious. Families live in a whirlwind of activity and many can’t find the time for regular participation in Christian Education. Each year there are a few children who participate in our program that we don’t see during the rest of the year. There are others whose participation in other programs is sporadic. This one week of focused teaching and learning is worthy of our time and effort.

This year, the Department has chosen to focus on stories of Paul. The Epistles are among the oldest documents of our New Testament and provide a glimpse at the early church and some perspectives on the the life of Jesus that cannot be gained from reading the Gospels alone. There are some great narrative stories in the Acts of the Apostles, but the letters tend to be shorter on the kind of stories that engage younger children. My role in the process doesn’t involve direct involvement in the choice of which Bible stories are presented. I serve as a song leader and direct opening exercises. In that role, I work with the choices made by the Department of Education in our church.

Working with Paul demands an examination of how we think about human personality. Is our personality something that is fixed and remains constant throughout our entire lives, or is it something that can change with time and circumstances? While there is something at the core of each human being that remains - an inner identity and spirit - there are many things in our lives that can change.

The stories of Paul depend on the belief that people can change. Paul’s conversation wasn’t from being an irreligious man to becoming religious. The bible reports that Paul was very committed to Judaism and the following of Jewish law. He served as a prosecutor of those who violated Jewish law. His conversion to Christianity involved a new understanding of his role in the world and a new way of understanding Christians. Whereas he previously thought that Christians had to be drawn back to traditional Judaism, he learned to accept and embrace Christianity and its new interpretations of traditional Jewish faith. The stories show how he went from persecuting Christians to promoting the spread of Christianity.

Did his personality change?

Certainly a lot changed. He changed his name from Saul to Paul. He changed his occupation. He changed his religious affiliations. He changed the focus of his life. But there was something about him that remained constant. People knew then and know today that Saul the enforcer of Jewish Laws is the same person as Paul, the leader of the Christian faith.

These stories and our attitude towards Paul have the ability to shape our attitudes towards other people in a wide variety of settings. When we have been the victims of injustice, or have been wronged by another person, do we believe that change is possible?

Ideologically, the modern penitentiary movement is based on the belief that those who have committed crimes can change. The word penitentiary comes from the same root as penance, the work one engages in to make up for a sin. The belief was that setting one aside from the mainstream of society gave an opportunity to reflect on the wrongs committed and make new commitments to live differently in the future. This process involved a lot of mistakes along the way. Keeping people in total isolation didn’t always produce the changes desires. Those whose spirits have been broken rarely are able to participate fully in society until significant healing has taken place.

Some of our modern laws seem to be based in a conviction that a person who commits a crime is always a criminal. That person can never be trusted and society needs to be protected from him or her. Usually our opinions are based on the severity of the crime committed.

Our laws provide for the permanent removal of some rights from those who commit certain crimes. Some criminals lose their right to vote for the rest of their lives. Some must register as offenders after they have been released from prison. There are crimes for which a person is incarcerated for the rest of their life. We seem to have mixed feelings about the possibility of rehabilitation.

Working with children, I am subject to periodic criminal background checks. We are diligent in protecting the safety of our children and make sure that the adults who work with them have no history of abusing children. The feeling is that while we may believe that rehabilitation is possible, the potential risks of new victims is simply too great to take a chance. A person who has committed a crime in which a child was a victim needs to find a different way of serving the community than working with children.

Still, one of the Biblical lessons we are challenged to teach to our children is that people can change. One who was not trusted by Christians became a trusted leader of Christians. This capacity for change is not only illustrated by the stories of Paul, but in other areas of the Bible as well. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus’ disciples ask if it is possible for any person to be saved. After Jesus presents a difficult challenge to a rich young man who came to him, his disciples wonder if anyone is capable of living up to such high standards. Jesus responds, “With man this is impossible, but the God all things are possible.”

The things we cannot do on our own include both making the most significant changes and forgiving others for wrongs committed. Teaching our children to turn to God may be the most important lesson of all.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

Through luck or serendipity, I’ve been reading two remarkable memoirs back to back. Both are by women who are poets and whose husbands died prematurely leaving them as widows. Both are memoirs of the process of grief.

I received Maryhelen Snyder’s “No Hole in the Flame” for my birthday. Maryhelen’s husband, Ross, was the son of a very important teacher and mentor in my life. Ross senior was professor of Christian Education at our seminary. I got to know him and many members of his family during the years of studying intensively with him. Ross Senior, his wife Martha, and son Ross co authored a book, “The Young Child as Person” for which I did many of the photo illustrations. My wife, Susan, was assistant director of the Seminary Preschool, founded by Martha, that provided much of the case material for the book. We kept touch with the Snyders for years after our seminary careers, but when Ross senior died, followed three years later by Martha’s death, we fell out of touch with the next generation. It was a delight to receive the book and to catch up on the details of their lives.

The book was, however, very sad for me to read. It is an extremely well-written memoir by someone who knows the value of words and has a poet’s capacity for removing unnecessary words. But it is also the story of people I know and love. Their pain was easy for me to feel. Maryhelen’s husband died of a pulmonary embolism suddenly at the age of 65. The family was in the midst of grief over the death of Ross Sr. The unexpected and sudden death created shock, but also drew together family and community in powerful ways. In the end, I believe that it is a very important book, with deep insights about love, loss, legacy and the journey of grief.

Then, a few days after my birthday, we took a trip in our camper and I discovered a book I bought last year and tucked into the camper to read, but never got around to reading. Elizabeth Alexander’s “the Light of the World” is another memoir of a widowed poet. Alexander’s husband, Ficre, died suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 50. The couple had been married only 15 years, but they were very close, had two sons together, and had immeshed themselves with extended family in their years of marriage.

On the surface, the two families don’t have much in common. Maryhelen is a psychologist. Her husband was a child psychiatrist. They lived in New Mexico. Both attended private liberal arts colleges and came from privileged backgrounds.

Alexander is a professor and poet, born in Harlem. Her husband was a painter and artist, born in Eritrea. They were both educated and accomplished in their arts and lived in New Haven, Connecticut. She came from a long-standing American family, with forebears who came to America as slaves. He came from free East-African roots and was a first-generation immigrant to the United States.

There are a lot of differences between the two women and their stories: cultural, age, region. But experiences of love and loss are universal. Their stories are not the same, but each is a deep testament to the power of love, family, community, art and language.

Both women, in their memoirs, respect the mystery of death and the uniqueness of each loss. Neither are trying to say that their stories are the only stories, or that their experiences are somehow more important than those of others. But both writers have touched on universal truths. Both have gotten me to think more seriously about death, loss, and my role in working with those who are swept up in the waters of grief. I spend a lot of time with those who are in the mist of the experience of the death of a loved one. I get asked a lot of questions about the nature of death and grief. I work with a lot of families as they plan funerals and celebrations of the lives of loved ones. Later this morning I will serve as facilitator for a support group for those who have experienced sudden and traumatic loss of a loved one. I think I understand some of the dynamics of grief. I know I have witnessed great miracles of healing and the triumph of love an life over death.

Maryhelen Snyder and Elizabeth Alexander have reminded me, through their memoirs, of the sacred nature of every relationship and the sacred occasion of every funeral. What we do and say is incredibly important. How we provide a community of support to those who are going through the journey of grief is critical. Because these two writers are so articulate and so self aware, they remind me of the power of listening. Each memoir is a complete story. Neither needs my commentary nor my interpretation. They stand on their own. In a similar way, the grieving people with whom I work know their own stories and are the best tellers of their tales. They don’t need me to speak for them, to put words in their mouths or ideas in their heads. They need me to listen, and only speak to ask for clarity or to demonstrate that I am really listening.

Were I teaching a class of young seminarians about the process of conducting funerals and working with grieving people, I think I would recommend both of these books. I would also insist that my students practice deep listening by hearing the stories of their classmates. I would ask them to write a sermon and then reduce that sermon to a poem. I would teach them the discipline of careful language so that the words they speak in the context of worship are words of meaning and depth.

I am still working on learning to say more with fewer words. I am grateful to the poets who, through their works are teaching me.

In the end, both of these books are celebrations of life and love. I pray that the eloquence of the poet-writers will inspire me to reflect their art.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

Nearly half of the citizens of Great Britain woke up disappointed this morning. Around 48% of them voted yesterday to remain in the European Union. They were not, however, the majority of the votes cast. The other 52% voted to leave. The pundits had predicted a very close election and they were right.

The markets took the news dramatically. The FTSE 100 Index fell more than 8% before recovering. It is now down about 4.5% from yesterday’s value. Banks, it seems, are taking the hardest hit. Barclays and RBS fell about 30% before recovering to losses of about 17%. The value of the British pound fell dramatically. At one stage it fell to $1.32, a low not seen since 1985. Here in the United States, markets are expected to fall as well. S&P Futures were down 5% and Dow Jones Industrial Averages fell 600 points. Investors around the world are expected to panic, selling stocks and purchasing gold and treasury bonds, investments made when markets are falling.

Prime Minister David Cameron has announced that he will resign in October, forcing new elections. Scottish leader Nicola Sturgeon says she will push for a second independence referendum to protect Scotland’s E.U. membership. Predictions abound that this signals the beginning of a total breakup of the European Union.

Whatever happens, it is going to be messy.

The vote takes Britain and the world into uncharted territory. Before the vote, those who were campaigning for staying in the union were quick to state that those leading the exit vote had no real plan for how to actually accomplish the exit. There may be some truth to those claims.

I’m no expert in European politics. What I know comes from reading the BBC news website on a fairly regular basis. And readers of this blog don’t turn to it for information on politics in the first place. What I do know is that close votes are a sign of deeply divided communities. I’ve heard too many stories of congregations that became divided and took votes that were close. The results have usually been dramatic and unpleasant. Not long ago a congregation with which I am familiar got into conflict over pastoral leadership. The vote was close. The congregation ended up splitting into two different congregations. A few years later, one of those congregations decided to give up and cease being a church. The other is struggling, too small to hire the leadership they want and continuing to decline since the split. The end result in the next few years might be that where there once was a healthy congregation there will be none.

A wise mentor once told me that a simple majority vote will divide a congregation. He went on to say that even a two-thirds majority leaves a third of the congregation upset. He advised that major decisions, such as calling a pastor or launching a capital funds drive should meet a minimum of 80% support. If they fall short the congregation should consider that the decision has not yet been reached and continue to search. That sounds like high stakes, but the stakes are high when a community begins to form divisions.

At this point in my career, I prefer boring church meetings to those filled with conflict. And I’ve been around long enough to sense conflict coming when it does.

Still, it is unreasonable to expect congregations or any other group of people to always agree. There will be times when differences emerge and opinions are deeply held. There will be times when things don’t go the way I want them to go.

One of my early lessons in church politics resulted in a story that I have previously reported in my blog, but I’ll repeat again. My home church was remodeling the sanctuary. There was plaster peeling from the walls and ceiling and there were stains from a previous leak in the roof. The appearance of the room was shabby and it was in need of a makeover. Plans were drawn and funds were raised. New lighting was installed. Paneling was put up. Paint was applied. The room was looking great. Some thought that new pews for the church would complete the makeover. My father was convinced that the old pews could be refinished and serve for many more years. At the meeting, it became clear that his was a minority opinion and the congregation voted to purchase new pews. He was a bit miffed at the decision and asked for the catalogue to see what pews cost. He turned to the price page and without even studying, selected the most expensive pews in the book. To illustrate his point, he made a motion that they buy those pews. The motion passed. That church has the fanciest, deeply padded, gold brocaded pews I’ve ever seen in a church. And my father bought the first one. Sarcasm doesn’t really work in church meetings.

But he didn’t leave the church because he disagreed with the decision of the congregation. He remained committed and participated.

I’ve seen that over and over in the church. A committed church member disagrees with a particular idea, votes against it, and then supports the decision of the majority. That attitude has served me well in my experience with the church. As pastor, I rarely vote in local church meetings. Believing in that principal of it takes 80% to make a decision, I attend meetings to observe and listen. if the decision were to come down to a single vote, I think it would be best for that vote not to be mine. In Conference and National settings of the church, however, I participate and vote. I can remember several times, when serving on the Conference Board and others when serving on the Board of Directors of Local Church Ministries, when I cast a lone dissenting vote. The decision went against what I believed was best for the organization. I didn’t get angry and quit. Moreover, I have tried to take responsibility for the decision of the group even though I dissented from it. As a member, I am responsible for what we do together, not just for my own opinion.

Britain has voted. Britain is divided. More important than the votes now, is discerning leadership that can bring the two sides together and uncover a deeper unity for the nation.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

There is something in us that wants to see the world as “us” and “them.” We want to externalize conflict, blame others, and identify enemies. The problems in our national government are caused by other people who don’t agree with our values, principles, or policies. We make similar distinctions and divisions in many other arenas of life. I hear similar words inside of the relatively small institution of the church. We talk about what “they” are doing or what “their” agenda is.

In that light, the discipline of our lectionary is revealing and a good teacher. Every third year we read through the stories of 1 and 2 Kings that report on the broad sweep of the history of Israel from the first united monarchy under King David (ca 1000 bce) until the fall of Jerusalem and the beginning of exile (587 bce). It is always good to review the story of our people and remember events that brought us to this point in our life together.

The Hebrew Scriptures , especially the historical books, have this amazing way of telling of the complexity of human experience from an insider’s point of view. In the books of Kings there are evil and unfaithful leaders as well as dedicated prophets. There are those who are about centralizing wealth, fame, power and information and those who stand up for the poor and dispossessed. There are villains and heroes, narcissists and self-effacing people, egomaniacs and humble servants - all in the same book. And all are part of our shared story. Unlike many histories, our people have kept the good and the bad and remembered the internal tensions. Despite our human tendency to see things in terms of “us” and “them,” in the stories of Kings, we discover that “they” are part of “us” and we are them.

The evil king Ahab is shown as a leader who lacks confidence and who is easily manipulated by the scheming Jezebel. The courageous prophet Elijah who stands up to all of the priests of Baal is also the same person who becomes so deflated and depressed that he lies down on the ground and begs to die. The good and the bad exist not only in the same book of the Bible, but even inside of the same character.

Over the past twenty years we have devoted significant energy to pursuing relationships with our neighbors that push us beyond racism. Ours still is a world where racial politics effect the every day lives of too many people. Injustice is evident in many aspects of life. Working to overcome racism and reach beyond the divide between Native Americans and those of other descents is a long and slow process. Trust that has been shattered so extensively isn’t restored easily or lightly. In our conversations, we have had to learn that it is easy to identify racism in others, but more meaningful to identify our own internalized racial notions. When I was in my twenties, I set out to change the world. Now, in my sixties, I realize how much I need to change about myself.

Pogo, the possum hero of Walt Kelly’s comic strip of the same name, said it well: “We have met the enemy and he is us.” The punchline came from a strip drawn for Earth Day in 1971. Pogo and Porcupine are walking in the woods. Porcupine says, “Ah, Pogo, the beauty of the forest primeval gets me in the heart.” Pogo responds, “It gets me in the feet, porkypine.” In the next panel, the forest is strewn with trash. Porcupine says, “It is hard walking on this stuff.” Pogo responds, “Yep, son, we have met the enemy and he is us.”

It changes our perspective entirely when we begin to understand that evil is not an external force, but a struggle within our own community and within our own selves. A lot of time an energy can be saved by avoiding the time of blaming and pointing fingers and getting down to identifying the steps required for genuine change.

That awareness, however, makes listening to the polarizing rhetoric of the current political climate even more painful. As candidates scramble to avoid showing any vulnerability, admitting any mistakes, and harboring any mixed feelings, they become caricatures of humans. We are never allowed to see a complete human being. Slogans and catch phrases tell only part of the story. By encouraging us to think simply, campaigns encourage us to think inaccurately.

A wise mentor once advised me to approach conflict for looking for the similarities between the person with whom I was disagreeing and myself. “You may be surprised to discover that what you don’t like about that person is the same as what you don’t like about yourself.”

The amazing honesty of our biblical story is refreshing, especially when read in the context of a year of politics that are anything but honest. The story of our people is a mixed record with wonderful achievements and terrible disasters. We have had great leaders and a few that were pretty awful. We have stood up for freedom and justice and we have acted in ways that were unjust and resulted in diminishing the freedom of some of the most vulnerable of our people.

And we read these stories in public. We tell them in a regular cycle of readings that has us returning to them over and over again, lest we forget who we really are.

As I grow older, I have learned to appreciate more deeply the value of repetition. When I look again at the familiar stories, I discover new nuances of meaning and insight. The reason why our people have treasured these stories for thousands of years might not be apparent upon the first or second reading. The ancients told these stories over and over again until entire groups of people had them memorized word for word. That deep familiarity with our stories produces a depth of understanding that is not available to those who read lightly and skim over the surface of our texts.

I am grateful for the words that reveal more and more about the world each time I read them.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

1973 began with President Richard Nixon announcing the suspension of offensive action in North Vietnam, followed by the announcement of the peace accord signed in Paris. Former president Lyndon B. Johnson died, leaving no living former U.S. President.

In February, the first American prisoners of war were released from Vietnam. Here in South Dakota, American Indian Movement activists occupied Wounded Knee and a standoff began.

In the spring as soldiers were returning from Vietnam, more news of the Watergate scandal was released and former Attorney General John Mitchell was named as the overall boss of the operation. The Sears Tower was completed in Chicago, the world’s tallest building. Secretariat was the first horse to win the triple crown since 1948.

The famous abortion case Roe v Wade was decided by the Supreme Court in 1973.

1973 was the year Henry Kissinger was named Secretary of State. It was also the year Billy Jean King defeated Bobby Riggs in a tennis match. It was the year of the Education of the Handicapped Act (EHA) mandating Special Education across the nation, and the passage of the Endangered Species Act.

It was the year that construction of the Alaska pipeline was authorized.

Vice President Spiro Agnew resigned and the nation went without a Vice President for a couple of months until Gerald Ford was named in December. Mike Mansfield, a senator from my home state of Montana was majority leader in the Senate.

It didn’t make the headlines and wasn’t reported by the major media outlets, but on June 22, 1973, in a small ceremony at Mayflower United Church of Christ in Billings, Montana, Susan and I were married. Rev. Frank Elliot and Rev. Jim Cernohlavek officiated. Claudia Stickney sang, accompanied by her brother Jeff on the piano. John Bross was organist. The reception was held at the church following the ceremony. It was the early 1970’s. The clothes we wore for the rehearsal and the ceremony have provided a lot of laughs for our children in the years since.

Unbeknownst to us at the time, the next day on the other side of the country, in a Roman Catholic rite, Karen and Dave Calabrese were married. Thirty-eight years later, in 2011, their son married our daughter.

Some anniversaries have special gems associated with them. The 25th is the Silver Anniversary, the 30th is the Pearl Anniversary, the 50th is the Golden Anniversary and the 75th is the Platinum Anniversary. I used to think that the 75th was the Diamond Anniversary, but my list says that title is for the 60th.

According to the list of traditional gifts for wedding anniversaries, the 43rd anniversary gift is travel. Then again, I didn’t make a gift of land for our 41st anniversary or developed real estate for our 42nd. I’m looking forward to our 44th next year when the traditional gift is groceries or our 46th anniversary when the gift is original poetry. 47 is fun with books being the gift, which I guess is a prelude to the 48th, when the traditional gift is “optical goods.”

I guess our daughter has already hit the mark accurately with anniversary gifts. She recently announced that she and her husband will be moving to Japan later this year. Their 4 years in Japan will almost certainly give us the gift of travel. We’ll have to go visit them.

I remember attending a 50th wedding anniversary celebration during the first year of our marriage. The couple seemed to be nearly impossibly old to me. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be 50 years older. But I did have a sense that it was a goal I wanted to achieve - to have a strong and sustained marriage that would last for a half century and more. 43 years later, it seems like we’re on track for that occasion.

Of course the longevity of our marriage is due to many factors that are beyond our control. We didn’t do anything to earn the blessings of good health that we have enjoyed. We have escaped major accidents and avoided being caught up in wars and enjoyed excellent nutrition mostly through the luck of birth and circumstance. My father died at an age 4 years younger than I am. They didn’t see their 40th wedding anniversary.

One of the things that I have learned to say to young couples when I am working with them on their wedding ceremonies is that the joy of growing old together is one of the most wonderful things in the world. I know that it is nearly impossible for a couple in their twenties to know what that means, but I genuinely pray that they will someday learn it on their own. It is one of the sweetest experiences of life.

The list of traditional presents that I have goes year by year up to 50 and then starts recognizing anniversaries in 5-year intervals. You got from Gold to Emerald to Diamond to Platinum. My list doesn’t name special gifts for the 65th or 70th Anniversary.

43 seems like just the right number for this year. We have been blessed with wonderful children and grandchildren. We have shared our careers for all of these years, first being students together and for the last 38 years we have been pastors together. As far as we know that 38 years is a record for United Church of Christ clergy couples continuously serving the same church together.

Some days 1973 seems a long time ago. We’ve done a lot of things, taken a lot of trips and had a lot of adventures. Many life-changing events have occurred in the time. Today, however, it doesn’t seem like it has been a long time at all. I can remember the joy and anticipation of our wedding day, the love and support of family and friends, and the confidence that we were doing the right thing.

The bride is as beautiful today as she was back then. I have no doubt it was one of the best things we’ve ever done.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

Yesterday turned out to be a delightful day. It began with something that I rarely do. I slept in. I don’t think that I have been short of sleep lately, but I make it a practice to turn off my alarm when we are vacationing, even if for only one day. After I wrote my daily blog, I crawled back into bed, intending to rest for a little while until the sun rose a bit higher and then go out to photograph Devil’s Tower in the sunrise. I slept through most of the sunrise and by the time I rose it was full daylight.

After breakfast, we began our walk around the tower, pausing whenever it seemed like there was a fresh angle for a photograph. I changed lenses several times and too time to frame my shots. We had arrived before the busloads of tourists began to be on the mountain so were walking with just a few other early birds and there was plenty of space between the groups. The eagles were soaring high in the sky and there were enough small clouds to make the sky an interesting backdrop for pictures.

As we walked we came across a doe who was obviously used to the crowds of people. She watched us a bit, but wasn’t uncomfortable with our staying to the path as she grazed on the bits of grass growing nearby. When a hiker approached going around the tower in the opposite direction, she moved a bit farther from the trail, but afforded us all a good look at her without running off to a more distant location.

The path around the tower is paved and it is a very easy walk, with just a couple of places that are a bit steep, so the walk could hardly be termed as a workout. One runner, who may have been training for even more strenuous runs, passed us twice as we ambled around the tower.

One has to be a bit careful when taking the walk, because the temptation is to continually look up. We could hear some of the banter of the rock climbers on the tower and our eyes naturally drifted to where they were rappelling down the face of the tower. One climber had a bright blue shirt on that made him easy to spot against the rock. Looking up while walking, however, is a bit disorienting and one has to remind oneself to also pay attention to the direction of the path and more mundane things on the ground.

We didn’t expect to see climbers on the tower. It is a more popular climbing destination at other times of the year. Between March and July some of the popular climbing routes are closed by park officials to protect nesting sites of prairie and peregrine falcons. The falcons themselves are pretty good at defending their nests and climbers who would defy the rules might find themselves endangered by the birds. However, the park service is good about enforcing the rules and climbers respect them.

There is another issue, however, that is more difficult for those who seek to climb the tower. June is a month of religious observances of many tribes. In addition to Lakota people, ceremonies are held by Kiowa, Assiniboine, Mandan, Arapaho, Crow and Cheyenne members. As we walked, we noticed tobacco ties that were much larger than we typically see and in colors different than we are used to. I’m sure that they had to do with ceremonies of other tribes or perhaps ceremonies with which we are unfamiliar. For the practitioners of these native religions, someone climbing on their sacred tower is offensive, a bit akin to someone attempting to scale the face of a cathedral. It shows a lack of respect.

For many years, there has been a voluntary climbing closure during the month of June. Climbers are asked to find other nearby rock faces for their climbing out of respect for Native American culture. This has resulted in a decrease in the number of climbers on the tower in June. Some estimate that about 80% of climbers respect the voluntary closure. The closure, however, is not mandatory and some choose to climb despite the request that they not do so.

The sharing of the tower for a wide variety of different purposes is a challenge for National Park Service employees as well as for members of groups that use the tower. The rock climbers are probably not as disruptive to ceremonies as are the busloads of tourists who appear to take their “selfies” with the tower in the background.

By 9:30 when we got into our pickup to go back down from the parking lot, the area between the visitor’s center and the tower was crammed with people so tightly that I’m sure they were getting in each other’s pictures. As we sipped our coffee before departing, I noticed that the busses don’t stop long enough for the tourists to walk all the way around the tower, so it is likely that those wanting to perform ceremonies could get away from the crowds by simply walking to the other side of the tower. The people that we observed walking were, like us, sticking to the trail and remaining relatively quiet out of respect for those who might be observing ceremonies.

It has been a long time since I watched the movie “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” but if I am remembering accurately, there is a scene where there is a long line of cars filled with people fleeing away from the tower. Back when I first watched the movie, I thought that the movie makers didn’t understand the location of the tower. I remember visiting as a child when there were hardly any other visitors. It is in a location that is far enough off of the major highways and there aren’t that many people in the county. However, I was struck that the numbers of tourists and cars have gone up significantly since my childhood. Maybe there really are that many people hanging out around the tower.

Our visit was brief. We were home by the middle of the afternoon. This trip was a 24-hour adventure. It was, however a true vacation and we returned refreshed and glad we had shared the experience.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

It is a source of amazement to me how infrequently we visit some places that are truly incredible and close to home. We sometimes take for granted things that are close at hand. The first national monument recognized by the government of the United States is around 100 miles from our home. Located in the northeastern part of the black hills, in a section known as the bear lodge mountains, Devils Tower is a huge igneous rock that stands out from its surroundings and can be seen for miles around. It is easy to see how the feature has been a gathering place for people for as long as there have been people on the plains.

First of all, you have to understand my biases. I grew up in Montana, between the Crazy Mountains and the Absarokas. If you head south from my home town into the mountains you go directly into the Beartooth-Absaroka Wilderness Area that is north of Yellowstone National Park. Montana’s highest peak is in that cluster of mountains. I love the black hills, but compared to the main spine of the Rocky Mountains, these are hills, and I am quick to call them just that. But my bias, like all biases, is not fair. The highest point in the Black Hills, though thousands of feet lower than the peaks of Colorado, Wyoming and Montana, is still higher than any point in the continental US to the east of it. That means that entire ranges such as the Appalachian Mountains, are lower than the Black Hills.

Nonetheless, the hills are a bit of an island in the prairie. From any peak in the hills you can see the flat land that surrounds us. So our features stand out. This is particularly true of Devils Tower. Rising above the top of a hill, it is higher than anything around it for many miles.

The name Devils Tower is a bit of a misnomer, based on a lack of understanding of indigenous spirituality. Europeans who first explored the west and encountered the native tribes of the plains made some assumptions about their spiritual practices that were not accurate. Because tribal traditional practices were different from Christianity, it was assumed that the tribes worshiped devils. The concept of a devil, or an evil spirit, however had nothing to do with their beliefs, however. The Lakota name for the feature is Mato Tipi, which means “home of the bear.” There are traditional stories that link the tower with Paha Mato, the butte we call Bear Butte, which is off to the east near Sturgis, South Dakota.

Whatever you call it, it is impressive. Last night I had time to simply watch as the sun set and the light faded. It is the night of a full moon and the moon was rising behind me as I watched the play of light and colors on the tower. The eagles were flying around the tower as I watched and took a few photographs. Despite the modern campground behind me it was easy to imagine how it had been a couple of centuries ago when this was the gathering place for people from across the plains.

It is easy to designate such a prominent feature as the place to meet.

And, if you spend any time here, which was common in the days of imprecise measurement of the passage of time, you can’t escape the sense of power and specialness that the place has. It feels religious to see such an incredible display of nature. It became a place of seeking vision and of special ceremony and of telling stories that were passed down for generations.

Susan and I are here for a short time just to take a day off from work. Going camping, even in the days of constant cell phone connectivity, is a meaningful break from our work. Tomorrow, before it gets too hot, we will hike around the base of the tower and look at it from several different angles.

I’ve never been much of a technical climber. I know that the tower is a magnet for those who love to climb rocks. It is one of the most sought-after climbing places for those who use the natural cracks in rocks to ascend. I am, however, happy to stay at the bottom and look up. I have no need to stand on top of the tower. There are those, among traditional Lakota thinkers, who wish that no one would climb the tower. Their sense of spirituality demands a different kind of respect. It reminds me of our visit to Uluru, also known as Ayers Rock in Central Australia. Although the indigenous land owners ask visitors not to climb the rock, there is a steady stream of climbers who ascend to the top. The practices of modern visitors reflects the differences and tension between indigenous and newcomer people. A similar phenomena can be observed here at the tower. For the most part the two practices, climbing and observing traditional native ceremony, can take place without conflict. The space is big and there is room for many different people to use it in different ways.

We choose to walk around the base and absorb the quiet and wonder of the place.

Here at the campground they have a strange tradition that is not rooted in indigenous practices. Back in 1977, movie director Steven Spielberg filmed the science fiction movie “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” in the area. The movie company set up camp on the eastern side of the tower right where we are camped. They've set up a small outdoor theatre facing the tower here in the campground and every evening from May through September they show that same movie. I’m pretty sure that the employees of the campground have it nearly memorized after a summer. We didn’t watch the movie last night. I’m not sure I have any desire to watch it again. Once was enough for me. It must seem like a bit of a strange ritual to outsiders, however.

Like generations of others, I find it sufficient to simply look at the tower and marvel at the handiwork of God and the power and diversity of creation. It restores my spirit and makes me grateful to live where I do.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

The South Dakota National Guard is wrapping up their annual Golden Coyote exercises. Each summer national guard units from all around the United States gather in the Black Hills for a couple of weeks of serious training. For those of us who live in Rapid City, there is little direct effect. What we notice mostly is that there are a lot more large military trucks driving here and there around the hills. Having watched this phenomena over the past two decades, one of the things I notice is that each year there are more and more vehicles driving around with the windows closed. The participants in the exercises are wearing a lot of gear. They’ve got on kevlar vests, camouflage uniforms with long sleeves and long pants, and often they are carrying packs and other gear. And it is hot this summer in the hills. All of that can mean only one thing. More and more of the vehicles used by the national guard, from the lightest jeeps to the biggest semi trucks have air conditioning.

I don’t begrudge those soldiers their air conditioning. Keeping them healthy is in the best interests of all of us. But it is a change. World War II was fought without air conditioning and there wasn’t that much air conditioning in Vietnam.

My father had mixed feelings about air conditioning. He never lived in a home with an air conditioner and he never had a car or pickup with an air conditioner. He used to say, “If you work outdoors in the sun all day, a bit of shade and a glass of lemonade is sufficient. You don’t need air conditioning.”

He did, however, come to accept air conditioners in tractor cabs. It took a lot of years, but eventually he began to order cabs for his customers with air conditioners.

The first tractors he sold didn’t have cabs at all. We sold sturdy umbrellas with adjustable poles so that the farmer could have a little shade while doing field work. Of course the umbrellas didn’t provide any protection from dust. The first tractor cabs we sold were add-ons that weren’t made by the manufacturer of the tractor. They were mostly sheet metal with glass or plastic windows. Most of the early cabs were open to the back of the tractor so it would be easy for the farmer to get on and off to connect machinery, make repairs and the like. Later we sold fully enclosed cabs with heaters. A few of them also had radios.

Swamp coolers were the first mechanical coolers installed in the tractors we sold. It wasn’t long before there were air conditioners available on tractor cabs. in the final few years before my father sold his franchise, we were selling tractors with integrated bodies made by the tractor manufacturer with complete climate systems, radios and other amenities.

If you think of the number of hours a day a farmer spends on a tractor, it makes sense for the machine to offer a bit of comfort. Still, my father sold those machines from his pickup truck that didn’t have an air conditioner.

I haven’t exactly followed in my father’s footsteps. We didn’t have air conditioning in our car in the early years of our marriage, but when we made the move from being a one car family to a two car family we purchased a used car with air conditioning. At first it seemed like having only one car so equipped made sense as our need for air conditioning was relatively rare. Later, however, air conditioning became a feature that we felt was necessary and for many years all of our cars have been air conditioned. Our home has a couple of window air conditioning units that get pretty good exercise when the temperatures rise above 90 degrees or so, but we do not have central air conditioning.

Our church is one of an increasingly small number of public buildings in our city that is not air conditioned. A capital funds drive is underway that will result in the installation of air conditioning in the next couple of years or so. In the meantime, we practice behaviors that people in warm places have practiced for years - skills that future generations may lose as central air conditioning becomes a part of the design of nearly all buildings. We open windows in the late evening. We use fans not only to circulate air, but also to help remove warm air from the building. We turn on the furnace fans to draw cool air from the basement and distribute it throughout the building. We are judicious with the use of draperies, shades and window blinds to cut down on passive solar heating.

Air conditioning is relatively efficient in terms of energy consumption. I’ve read that driving a car with the windows down actually consumes more fuel than rolling up the windows and running the air conditioner. That makes sense for long trips on the highway, but I still am quick to roll down the windows for a short drive around town. Our children think I’m a bit strange driving around alone in the car with all of the windows down. They find the noise and air currents to be disturbing. Still, I am an old guy with some old habits and I like it.

When possible, I prefer to have my temperature change slowly - the way it happens in this country outside - rather than experience sudden cooling and warming. The transition from an air conditioned space to the outside world can be a bit of a shock to my system. Going from cool to hot seems to be more difficult than going from warm to cold for some reason. I guess I know how to bundle up for winter weather, but there are limits to how lightly one can dress for summer and still maintain a reasonable amount of modesty.

The planet is warming and forecasters predict that we will see more temperature extremes and more severe weather as we undergo this change. It is good to have modern climate controls. Still, I do enjoy simply being outside and there are days when a breeze, a bit of shade and a cool drink provides all the comfort I need.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

In terms of media, I sort of skipped a generation. I used to love the radio and listen a lot. I got used to having the radio on in the car and I drive quite a few miles every year, so that constitutes quite a bit of listening. Early in my career as a pastor, I pulled a three hour shift every day as a radio disc jockey: “Good morning ladies and gentlemen, you’re listening to KNDC broadcasting from Hettinger, North Dakota on a frequency of 1490 at a daytime power of 1,000 watts. . .” The station was not on the air at night and I opened up the broadcast day at 6 am each morning and was free to go about my pastoral duties by a little after 9 am.

Back in those days, we couldn’t get NPR in our town. I could begin to pick it up about 35 miles from town heading toward Bismarck and would listen to NPR for the next 115 miles and for the same distance on the way home. Conference meetings tended to be on Saturdays, so I would try to listen to “Car Talk” as I was driving into the city. Then I would listen to “A Prairie Home Companion” with Garrison Keillor on my way home. I found his particular style of storytelling to be very appealing and began to study his style. Since I couldn’t always listen to the show, I purchased a number of cassette tapes of his “The News from Lake Woebegone” segment from the show. I was living in a small town in the upper midwest and he seemed to understand the culture and the nature of our lives pretty well. And he was a good storyteller.

As the North Dakota Public Broadcasting network developed and more towers were built, I was able to listen to A Prairie Home Companion most weeks. I began to include the program in my regular schedule of activities. By the time we moved to Boise, Idaho in 1985, I was a pledging member of Public Radio and have been ever since. The year we moved was the year that Garrison Keillor appeared on the cover of Time magazine. In Boise, we had access to NPR all the time and there were a few other shows for which I became a regular audience. I even had the opportunity to be an audience member for a live broadcast of a Garrison Keillor program during those years.

Most of my peers were upping their television screen time and keeping up with all of the sitcoms at the time, but I never really became a big fan of television. Paying for cable television when I rarely found time to watch seemed like a waste, so I didn’t do it. A few times over the years I have been interviewed by various television programs and since I don’t watch much television, I had little clue what they were interested in showing. It seemed to me that sitting in a chair on a set that slightly resembled about half of a living room wasn’t very visually interesting, and I soon learned to make excuses and find others to suggest when asked to appear.

I still was a regular radio listener when we moved back to the Dakotas and was delighted to find South Dakota has such a well organized public radio system.

Over the years, however, I have gotten to the point where I rarely listen to the radio any more. My current listening media is the world of podcasts. I still listen mostly to radio programs, but podcasts allow me to listen to what I like when I like. I no longer have to adhere to the schedule of the radio. It was at the time I began to listen to podcasts that I quit listening to “A Prairie Home Companion.” The show began to seem a bit repetitious. Having studied Keillor’s storytelling style very carefully, I felt like I understood it and I lost much of the sense of excitement and surprise in his tales. I’m not alone in my change of tastes. “A Prairie Home Companion” has lost nearly a quarter of its audience in the last decade from it’s peak of 4.1 million.

Still, the retirement of Keillor to pursue non-radio interests is a bit of an event. I’ve been listening to him for a long time, so I know that he retired before. One of my favorite quotes from Roy Blount, Jr. came from that show: “It is better by far to have been good and over than rotten and gone on too long.”

Keillor’s craft is the use of his imagination. Whether writing, telling stories or orchestrating a variety show radio program, he has created a world out of his own imagination. Listeners probably understand that “Guy Noir” and “Lives of the Cowboys” and “Powdermilk Biscuits” and “The Ketchup Advisory Board” are fiction. They may even understand that “Lake Woebegone” is not a real town in Minnesota. More difficult, however, is understanding that Keillor’s radio personality is also a product of his imagination. He created the character of the shy radio host as a part of his show. I’ve read a lot of reports that he has quite a different personality when he is off air.

I wish Garrison well in his retirement. I may even subscribe to the podcast of his radio short, “The Writer’s Almanac” just to hear the familiar voice and catch a bit of the dry humor. And I wish Chris Thile, who will take over as host of “A Prairie Home Companion” in October, well. I realize, however, that the days of me arranging my schedule around the radio are over. And I realize that at 35, Thile’s audience will need to be closer to his age just as my age is closer to Keillor’s. The show will have to change to continue its success. It’s rare for a radio dynasty to be passed to a second generation.

Meanwhile, I seemed to have skipped the television generation and don’t feel like I missed a thing. These days when the list of un-listened-to podcasts gets too long, I simply delete a few and go on with my life. Maybe I should have one of those old “News from Lake Woebegone” cassettes digitized so I can listen to it in my old age.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I’ve written about millennials before, and I am no expert on the particularities of the generation of youth and adults who are emerging as leaders in our communities and in the world. Furthermore, as has been true of previous generations, the source of deepest understanding and meaning about a particular group of people comes from within and not from the observations made by an outsider. I am definitely not a millennial. I don’t see the world from their particular point of view. On the other hand, I have always found hope in the intelligence, leadership and energy of those who are younger than I. I also think that we who are in the category of elders do well to take seriously those who are younger.

Our world is changing and with every change comes both risk and opportunity.

Millennials are less religiously affiliated than ever before. There’s no news in that statement. Study after study reveals similar statistics. A 2012 Pew Research Center report reports that nearly one in three do not belong to a faith community and of those, only 10% are looking for one. A 2014 survey shows that the disaffiliation trend is growing.

As a church leader, I can’t help but wonder if the trend is primarily caused by the institutional church or the individuals. Of course the answer is most likely not one or the other but a combination of both.

What seems to be the case is that youth and young adults are both more globally connected and more locally isolated than was the case a few decades ago. The globally connected part is obvious from there command of social media and ability to instantly access all kinds of information, including making connections with those who share their point of view. The local isolation seems to be, in part, a result from the large amount of time spent in front of various technological devices. I am no longer surprised to see college roommates who communicate by email instead of speaking to one another or teens who are texting to each other while sitting next to each other in the same car. Technological communication is so much a part of their lives that they aren’t aware of what seems to me to be obvious: the technology often gets in the way of genuine conversation.

There are positive and hopeful aspects to this new way of seeking community. There are wonderful love stories of couples who found each other over the Internet and who would never have met if it weren’t for online dating services. There are charities and causes that have found incredible support online that wouldn’t have had much traction using traditional methods. People with unique interests are able to find each other and make connections that were previously impossible.

But make no mistake about it. This wonderful global community is not a solution for isolation and loneliness. The lack of community is deeply felt by youth and young adults. Suicide is the third-leading cause of death among youth. Rates of isolation, loneliness and depression continue to rise.

Millennials may have decided that traditional churches don’t offer the community they seek and need, but they still have a great need for community. And, for many the community of the Internet is insufficient for their basic need of human contact, care and connection.

We have this rich treasure of intelligent, capable and competent 18 to 34 year-olds who have all of the qualities we most desire for our communities: compassion, a sense of service, willingness to work, idealism, and energy. But they, and we, lack the language to connect in meaningful community. Part of the reality is that we have raised these young people in a secular world. It isn’t just these youth who have suffered from the lack of religious community, it is also their parents. And lacking a faith community, young people also lack a language to express their spirituality. They are aware of that which is beyond. They experience wonder and gratitude and a sense of the world beyond themselves, but they lack the traditional language of religion to express what they know to be true. And without the language, they are challenged to make spiritual connections with others.

It seems to me that one source of hope lies in the development of new institutions and new language. The church has always been much more than a particular congregation or a particular denomination or a particular way of organizing community. Christianity, at its core, is always about resurrection and therefore needs not fear the death of particular institutions or structures. Inventing new communities can be a powerful tool for millennials. And with new communities new language emerges. I am often amused and occasionally energized by listening to a young adult speak of spiritual truths while avoiding the use of overtly religious language. While I prefer to use religious language, I understand that the truth is not contained in the words. It always lies beyond and different words can point towards the same truth. I also find joy in some new organizations that are working hard to offer fellowship, personal reflection, pilgrimage, and even disciplines of practice. They may not use words like “liturgy,” “confession,” “worship” or “prayer,” but meditation and practice can offer the same benefits of community.

More interesting to me as an elder, however, are the ways in which the community of which I am a part, can employ the tools of the new generation. We have much to learn about remaining globally connected from those who are younger. I know how to take a meal to a neighbor, but I’m clueless about how to set up a Kiva loan to a farmer in Kenya. I can pull change from my pocket to help the person ahead of me in the checkout lane at the grocery store, but don’t look to me to know how to make random acts of kindness go viral. I know how to speak to the congregation I serve, but haven’t the foggiest idea how to organize a TED conference.

I suppose it remains to be seen whether or not the traditional church will be able to meet the needs of millennials for community. It does seem clear that for those with whom we do succeed in connecting that good things happen both ways. Christian community is good for millennials and millennials are good for the church. There is hope in our future.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

A few days ago I was loading a canoe onto the roof of my car. It is something that I have done over and over and over again. My canoes aren’t the heaviest, but they aren’t the lightest canoes made, either. When we lived in Idaho, our church camp had fiberglass canoes that had been repaired several times and they were a good ten to fifteen pounds heavier than the heaviest canoe that I own. No worries. heavy canoes are often very stable in the water and while they are a bit harder to paddle, there’s plenty of potential for fun in nearly any canoe. And those fiberglass canoes were tough. We’d take them, with three kids per canoe, down a short stretch of the north fork of the Payette river where it ran smooth and shallow and they’d get dragged across rocks and bumped and banged and be ready for the next adventure. I learned, in those days, to squat down, grab the center thwart of a canoe, lift it until one gunwale was up in the air and the other resting on my bent knees and then, in one smooth motion, swing the canoe upside down over my head as I stood up with the thwart across my shoulders and the canoe ready to be carried to wherever it needed to go. I could then find the balance point of the canoe and, by thrusting my arms, lift it as high as I could reach to place it on a trailer or rooftop for transport. It is a process that I’ve been doing for years. Most of the time it is actually easier for me to lift a canoe and put it where I want it by myself than to have help from someone who doesn’t know how to handle a boat.

Anyway, I have noticed, lately, that when I extend my arms to lift the canoe higher than shoulder height, I don’t seem to have the strength that I once had. Sometimes I struggle to keep the canoe balanced. Sometimes my right arm doesn’t push quite as hard as my left. I’ve had a bit of an ache in a shoulder for sometime and I think that I favor that arm because I don’t want to feel the pain.

Part of me wants an easy solution to the problem. There must be some exercise or physical therapy that will help me regain the strength in that shoulder. I’ve been rowing more this year in an effort to build up those muscles. Rowing is great exercise for arms and shoulders and it has very little impact or risk of injury.

In the back of my mind, however, I know that I should not expect to have the strength of a twenty-year-old. As I age, I will need to learn to accept some limitations.

Loading a canoe onto the roof of a car is a task that I’ll be doing for many years to come. After all, I also have lightweight canoes that I can lift without strain. I can always paddle a smaller boat. It does, however, remind me of something that I was taught in an “introduction to yoga” session many years ago. I have never studied or practiced yoga formally, but I have participated in a few simple exercises. In this particular class after some breathing and stretching exercises, we were invited to move our bodies into a slightly uncomfortable position and hold the position for a few seconds. The instructor invited us to feel our discomfort and embrace it rather than immediately shifting away from it. As I understood it at the time, one can learn to deal with the inevitable pain of life by practicing endurance with minor discomfort. Again, I’m no expert at yoga, but I think there is merit in that concept. On the few occasions when I’ve experienced a bit of pain, such as when I was burned a few years ago, I discovered that trying to make all of the pain quit was less meaningful than simply allowing myself to feel a bit of pain. For me, less pain medication and more quiet meditation was more effective than trying to make myself free from pain an accepting the grogginess of the medication.

I know that for me grief is one of those pains that seems to be easier to bear when confronted directly. When I admit to myself that I am grieving and allow myself to feel the sadness and loss I am able to move on to the next part of my life with more ease and grace then when I try to hide my grief.

I wonder if we, as a society, as a nation, have learned any of this bit of wisdom. Have we learned to face our pain and admit our grief or are we continually hiding from them? I have plenty of messages from growing up in this society that I have since discovered to be misleading. In the community where I grew up, boys especially were taught to hide their pain. “Don’t cry,” was the message I often heard. I learned at a very early age that it was far more socially acceptable to get angry than to express pain. I learned this lesson so well that it is not uncommon for people to think that I am angry when what I’m feeling is hurt.

As a country we’re reeling from the pain and grief and loss of yet another horrible mass killing. I’ve read plenty of words that express anger. I’ve read how people have called the shooter, Omar Mateen evil. I’ve hear the angry rhetoric about who should have or could have done something to prevent this incredible crime. The politicians are all trying to gain power through their rhetoric at the moment. I just wonder if all of this bluster isn’t yet another form of running away from the pain.

Can we, for a moment, simply acknowledge that this is a tragedy? Scores of families are left in deep grief. We have lost some brilliant people who were loved by their friends and family. It hurts to live in a country where such senseless violence is becoming so common.

I don’t have a solution to the problem. But I do know that it won’t help for us to let this moment pass without facing our pain.

One thing for sure. It makes a stiff shoulder seem minor indeed by comparison.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I suppose that there is nothing particularly distinctive about being 63 years old. When you are in your first decade, each birthday is a milestone worthy of celebration. It is easy to see that there are new abilities and skills that weren’t present in the previous year. Entering into the second decade, a 13th birthday is worthy of special note if for no other reason than it marks the beginning of the teenage years. The summer I turned 13 was my last summer of part-time, pick-up jobs. I mowed lawns, swept a feed warehouse, and took care of pets for vacationing people. Most days I had quite a bit of time to myself to play in the river, read books, relax and daydream about the future. The next year, I began putting in full days of work on my uncle and cousin’s ranch.

At twenty-three I was in my second year as manager of a church camp, a facility that was used only in the summer. I had developed quite a bit of skill at finding and repairing leaks in the water system, making small repairs and keeping the facility running. We completed the site work and poured the footings and foundations for a new dining hall for the camp during the summer and I pulled, loaded and hauled the concrete forms by myself.

At thirty-three I was trying to establish myself in a new job in a new region of the country. It was my first summer at a new church camp. I had plenty of stamina for work and home life and exploring our new surroundings.

By the time I reached forty-three, we had moved again and I was the father of teenagers. A new job meant new challenges and opportunities.

Somehow, however, the distance from forty-three to sixty-three has passed very quickly. We haven’t picked up our household and moved in those years. I haven’t changed jobs in that time.

At sixty-three I look in the mirror and notice that my hair and beard are completely white, and I can’t remember exactly when the change in color occurred. I’m not even sure if it was gradual or sudden, though I don’t think it took me too many years to make the transition. As has been true for all of my life, I’m neither the oldest nor the youngest in my circle of friends, but I did realize, at a recent youth group meeting, that not only was I the oldest person in the room at the moment, but my guitar was older than any of the other people in the room including the volunteer adult youth advisors. Not long ago, someone asked me, “Hey! Where did you get that cool, retro, 1970’s guitar strap?” The answer, of course is that I bought it new in a music store back in the 1970’s.

I don’t think I’ve ever minded my age, though I have often felt that I wasn’t exactly the right age in the eyes of others. For many years I seemed to be too young for the things I wanted to do. Certain jobs were offered to people with more age and experience than I had and didn’t seem to be open to me. Friends would comment, “wait until you’re my age . . .” Then, rather suddenly it seems to me, I found myself to be too old for certain things. There didn’t seem to be a time when I was exactly the right age.

I’m adjusting to being in between.

At this point in my life I’m too old to be a viable candidate for a new job and too young to retire. There is a certain freedom in that kind of in between stage. I don’t have to worry about my resume and keeping up with the various forms of paperwork that are a part of our church’s ministerial placement system. I’ve updated my profile for the last time in my active career. Unless I mess up big time, which I don’t anticipate, I’ll remain in this position, serving this church for a few more years and then step aside and watch younger leadership take my place.

I have noticed a few signs of aging. There are a few aches and pains that I don’t remember from previous decades. I can still pick up a heavy wood and canvas canoe, turn it over and swing it onto my shoulders in a single movement, but when I extend my arms to lift it to the roof rack on the car I notice the strain in a way that I don’t remember feeling it a few years ago. I’m not adverse to accepting a hand the way I was at 53.

A quick search for quotes about being 63 years old this morning didn’t yield much. There are plenty of quotes about turning 60 and 65, but 63 isn’t one of those milestone birthdays. I think that for many of us that once you turn 30, the first half of each new decade is a period of adjusting. There is a realization of aging with the new decade: “Wow! I’m 30 (or 40 or 50 or 60, etc.)” Then it takes a few years to realize that it isn’t bad being this age. By the middle of the decade the adjustment is made and one becomes comfortable with the decade. It begins to fit like a familiar piece of clothing, which is a good analogy for me because I seem to prefer my clothes after they are a few years old. They just seem more comfortable than when they are brand new. Of course I still can’t get a pair of jeans to last very long. It’s just that I don’t need the annual ritual of creating cutoffs when the knees are worn through.

Nonetheless, a birthday is a good time to look back and to look forward. This one is going to be gentle with me it seems. Maybe I should work on a good quote about being 63 that I could leave for future generations. Then again maybe it is a year that simply doesn’t need its own quote.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I confess that I have a penchant for complex thoughts. I like to wrestle with ideas and concepts that require careful analysis, many of which have developed over generations of thinkers with many different viewpoints incorporated. I’m a big fan of paradox and the synergy that comes from considering seemingly opposed points of view and reconciling them through the process of paying attention to nuances in emphasis and style.

Not everyone thinks the way I do.

Recently I had a conversation with a person who had experienced significant loss and grief in the past few months. This individual made reference to a vision of heaven that is quite different than I imagine that which is beyond death. For this person heaven is a physical place occupied by people with physical bodies and appearances that are the same as or similar to this life. Activities in heaven closely resemble the things that people enjoy in this life. The main difference between heaven and this life, for this particular believer, is that in heaven there are no bad people and the people who are in heaven don’t experience any pain or sorrow or sadness. The image was very comforting to the person.

I don’t think I would have offered any help to this particular grieving person by saying, “Well, actually, it’s a bit more complex than all of that,” and expounding on my images of spiritual existence and reunion with multiple generations and unconditional love and the power of God to forgive that reaches beyond our ability to imagine. Just as I don’t find it very appealing to imagine heaven in the way described by the person with whom I was speaking, I don’t think my vision of heaven has appeal for that person.

My bias for complex thought and carefully nuanced speech is just that: a prejudice that I hold that may cause inaccurate judgement of others.

There are, after all, some very simple statements that hold deep meaning on a variety of different levels.

God is love. The statement is at once very simple and very complex. It is a powerful image for those who picture God as a kind of super human. It is equally powerful for those whose image of God doesn’t extend to a physical appearance at all. And it has a companion assertion that is equally powerful and similarly simple and complex at once: Love never dies.

Those statements issued at a funeral, when the community gathers for grief and mutual support, can offer comfort to those who grieve regardless of the different ways in which they think. And, unlike the rhetoric used in contemporary political campaigning, the language of a funeral is carefully chosen to unite, not divide the congregation. I work hard to craft language that brings people together for shared experience.

Once again we find ourselves in the midst of a time of national grief. The media headlines are filled with reports of the tragedy in Orlando. In what appears at the moment to be the actions of a severely troubled and heavily armed individual 50 people died in what is being labeled the worst mass killing in recent history. Scores of families are left with the deep pain of unanticipated loss. Sudden and traumatic loss can lead to a lifetime of continuing grief and ongoing problems. People around the world are affected by the violence and overwhelmed by the tragedy.

It is, in my opinion, a time for language that brings us together and unites us in our grief. It is a time for serious questions about what we might do to prevent future tragedies. It is a time for accurate investigation and deep searching for the causes of so called “lone terrorists” who bring such incredible violence to so many others. What can we learn from this tragedy that might help us prevent future tragedies?

Yet there are leaders and those who seek positions of leadership who are already using their positions to divide people. Division isn’t difficult in a world where there are so many different ways of thinking.

I suppose it is natural to look for differences between “us” and “them.” We don’t want to imagine that we might become victims so we look for ways in which we are different from those who were attacked. That kind of thinking, however, does little to ease the burden of grief for those who loved the victims. And make no mistake about it. The families and friends of those who died are every bit as much victims of the crime as are those who died.

The grief work that we need to do as a nation is not about difference and division, however. It is not about who is gay and who is straight, about who is Latino and who is EuroAmerican, about appearance or choice of entertainment or any other of the myriad complexities that make us different from one another. It is about standing with the victims and sharing the grief. Grief really does become more bearable when it is shared.

Campaign advisors may be telling candidates that they need to show strength and power and use tough words to respond to this situation, but those are not qualities that impress me in this situation. I’m looking for compassion and the ability to stand with the victims. I’m looking for leadership that brings us together in our common loss and reminds us of the inherent strength of community.

That kind of leadership is tough work. I know how hard I work on an individual funeral to find just the right words to respond to the grief of a congregation gathered in the midst of the loss of an individual. Multiply that effort by 50 and it is apparent that no single leader, no matter how powerful or well-recognized, can address the mass of grief which is overwhelming us. We need leaders who can lay aside their differences and work together.

I pray for that kind of leadership in Orlando. I fear when those who seek national leadership fall short of that ideal.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

The Black Hills Chamber Music Society held a festival in our church yesterday. The event featured four one-hour concerts, offered back to back. There was a different musical act for each hour: 1 pm, 2pm, 3pm and 4pm. They were focused on local musicians and it is always delightful to realize how much talent we have in our community. This is not a review of the event, but rather a comment about artists in general.

The amount of music in a one-hour set varies greatly. Part of the variation, I’m sure, has to do with the nature of individual instruments, but it was interesting to me how some of the musicians performed their music virtually without comment and others filled their time with commentary, introducing the individual numbers, talking about composers and the history of the particular music being presented.

I’ve noticed that the tendency to provide commentary about art is not reserved to musicians. I know visual artists who love to talk about their work. I once attended a gallery opening that featured several different artists. One artist thanked us for attending and said that she hoped we found her work to be meaningful. Another spoke for over a half hour about the emotional context of the various paintings presented.

The same occurs in my profession. There are preachers who are pleased to offer a prayer or devotion when asked. There are others who feel compelled to provide commentary with their offerings. Preachers, in general, seem to like to talk and it is always a risk to ask one to make a brief presentation. 2 minutes stretch easily into 5 and 20 into an hour.

Some people, when given a microphone and an audience, can’t resist going on and on.

Some artists seem comfortable trusting the power of their art to speak for itself. Others feel that it needs explaining.

I’m not much of an artist, really. I dabble at the trumpet and guitar and I sing with a choir from time to time. I take a few photographs and occasionally find one that is meaningful. But I don’t consider myself to be an artist. If I do have a gift for performance I guess it lies in storytelling. I enjoy telling stories.

I do, however, appreciate music and art. I enjoy concerts and performances. I am happy to be an audience member at concerts of many different genres of music. I enjoy taking time to stroll through a gallery and spend time with the art on display. I appreciate fine photography when I have an opportunity to see it displayed. I enjoy living in a community with an appreciation for art and a large variety of different public sculpture and outdoor art.

I appreciate learning about the history of art as well. I’ve read a number of books about various genres and eras of artistic expression. I’m interested in the interplay of the visual and performing arts. In the late 19th and early 20th Centuries Western classical music was deeply influenced by the art of Manet, Pissaro, Degas, Monet and Renoir. Both the music and the visual arts of the time reached beyond simply recreating the sights and sounds of nature, but rather using their media to influence the emotions of their audiences.

A similar interplay between art and music has been present in other eras as well.

Another topic that interests me is the role of the church as patron of the arts. The deep connection between religious imagination and the arts is visible in the architecture of religious buildings, in the art displayed in our churches and in the music that we use in worship.

As an academic discipline, art is a fascinating topic. I’m sure that I have much to learn.

However, I confess that artists who don’t seem to trust their art put me off. They seem to need to explain their art, present their art and then explain it again. Frankly, I’d prefer to simply experience the art and reserve judgment.

As I listened to the performances yesterday, I was happy just to listen to the music. I found myself to be a bit annoyed by the words and explanations. Perhaps I just wasn’t in the mood for more instruction on a hot Sunday afternoon. Perhaps I had different expectations of the artists than they brought to the event.

I’m sure, however, that there was value in the commentary that was offered. There were probably audience members who appreciated the words that were offered. It may have just been my mood of the day. After all, I frequently offer commentary on my blog. There are plenty of bloggers who are content to tell a story, present an opinion and offer a few words. I am continually going on and on about the process of writing and offering extensive commentary on my work. The very thing that I am quick to criticize in others is something of which I am guilty myself.

In the scheme of things we will probably do what previous generations have done: leave it to history to sort out the art from the fluff, the music from the noise and the literature from the scribbling. A relatively small percentage of what we do has real lasting value.

Once in a while, however, a few great sounds, a few great images, and a few great words will touch us in deep ways that we can recognize. When we experience common meaning in the great works of art we know that our lives have been transformed.

This morning, after the songs have been played and sung, after the artists and audience have gone home, what remains is the memory of an afternoon of shared music. It takes its place among many other memories of other afternoons in a lifetime of listening to concerts and sitting with art. In the end what we have left are the memories. And then, before long our memories fade as well.

Still, some music does become classic. It lasts beyond the span of the artists who initially created it. It is revived in the music of future generations who play music that was composed centuries before they were born. And that is enough.

Perhaps it is as much of immortality as we could expect . . . or bear.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I’ve been thinking about inspiration lately. There are moments when members of the congregation I serve become highly motivated and effective in their mission and outreach. Some project grabs their attention and sparks their generosity and the energies of several people come together to make great things happen. I have been pleased and amazed by projects that have come together with shared effort and energy. But there are also certain projects that seem to remain on the back burner, waiting for that spark of energy or perhaps for just the right leader to come around and make things happen. Sometimes it isn’t clear to me why one project takes off and another remains incomplete.

We speak of inspiration as a kind of uncontrollable force that provides energy and enthusiasm. We think of inspiration in terms of creative energy. The term comes from something far more basic. It means to draw in breath. Inspiration is necessary for life itself.

The primary languages of the bible, Hebrew and Greek, both share with English the connection between breathing and spirit. In Hebrew the term is “Ruah,” which can be translated “spirt” or “wind” or “breath.” The force or principle that animates living beings is seen as freely present in the universe. The air we breathe is the same as the wind that refreshes the land. In Greek, the term is “Pneuma.” We use the Greek term in English for air powered tools: pneumatic.

Latin, the language from which the Bible was read for much of its history, shares that same meaning. “Spiritus” means breath and comes from the base word “spirare” which means “to breathe.” Our English word comes directly from the Latin.

We use the term spirit in a lot of different ways in our language. We speak of it in terms of extra energy. We will say, “He (or she) was inspired!” about an exceptional effort. The language is used in terms of sports and competition as well as in reference to work or other efforts.

We talk of team spirit, school spirit and community spirit to speak of shared energy and pride.

The same word, however, is used to refer to mysterious forces. We will say “spirited away” to refer to an unexplained disappearance.

We also use the word to talk about intention and deeper meaning. We speak of “the spirt of the law,” meaning the essence or the true meaning.

Then, of course, there is the use of the word in relationship to intoxication. Distilled spirits are alcoholic beverages.

A person who sings or dances or fights with spirit is seen as a positive role model.

We also speak of spirit as a disembodied presence: “those who are present in spirit.”

We’ve got such a catalog of different meanings and uses of the words spirit and inspiration that it might be difficult for someone who is unfamiliar with our language to tell whether we are talking about the energy of a game, the presence of a loved one, the ability to accomplish great things or the consumption of alcohol.

One thing about the term as we use it in conversation is a sense that it is somewhat elusive. We can’t manufacture or fake spirit. It needs to be genuine and appears as the result of an external force. It is not subject to manipulation. The gospel of John says, “The wind blows where it wills, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes or whither it goes; so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” The sentence doesn’t quite come off in English because we don’t use spirit and wind interchangeably, but in the Greek the same word is repeated in that sentence. “Wind” and “spirit” are the same.

Spirit is necessary for life and we can’t control the spirit. Those two concepts seem to be in conflict. In reality, there are a lot of things that are beyond our control. Part of successful living is learning to accept the things we cannot control, as witnessed by Niebuhr’s serenity prayer.

The problem is that part of my role as pastor of a congregation is to bring inspiration to the people I serve. A preacher is always a part-time cheerleader. One of the roles I am given by the community and accept as a pastor is that of raising issues in a way that encourages the community to respond. Sometimes I’m pretty good at that task. Other times, I try to get something going and my timing seems to be off.

The truth is that it isn’t all about me. It’s fairly easy to become a bit confused about what I want and what God is calling me to do. I often think that God is calling me to the things that I desire. It takes a loving and caring community to discern God’s calling. Not every project that I think is a good idea is in the best interests of the community. When the people aren’t inspired it may be simply because I haven’t chosen the right project or ministry. It also may be a matter of timing. It is very common for me to be pushing for a particular project or ministry only to find out that what I need is patience. The project will be accomplished in its own time and not according to my schedule.

I want to lead an inspired congregation and most of the time that is what happens. But there are also times of rest and periods of calm. Just because we are quietly resting, however, does not mean that we are not alive. Quiet and calm are also meaningful experiences for all people. A bit of decreased activity isn’t a sign that we are incapable of accomplishing big things.

Perhaps the biggest challenge for me as a leader is learning to balance patience and push. There are times when I need to be encouraging action and other times when I need to wait. Like many other things in the ministry, the trick is balance.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I had a few chores that took me outdoors yesterday and the transition from the air conditioned office to the outside temperatures was fairly significant. With temperatures reaching records for this time of year in the high nineties, the interior of the car was well above that until its air conditioning got things cooled down. Working outside, even for just a few minutes, was enough to raise a sweat. I was grateful that we live on the west end of the state, where it is dry. The high temperatures combined with high humidities, such as were being experienced farther east must have left folks sweltering.

I don’t have enough experience or enough scientific knowledge to know whether the record high temperatures are part of overall global warming and climate change or just the particular weather pattern we’re experiencing this year. Likely there are many different factors.

More worrying to me than the high temperatures is the simple fact that the hills are so dry. The promise of rain showers in the early part of next week brings the threat of lightning strikes and it seems that things are already tinder dry in the woods. And it is just the beginning of June. We could have a long, hot and dry summer ahead of us.

For now at least the temperatures are dropping to comfortable levels every evening and we are able to open up the house and sleep comfortably.

The weather gives us an alternative to politics for our conversation. You’d think that there wouldn’t be much to say about the weather. We’re all in it together when it comes to the weather and simple observations give us similar facts. The question, “Is it hot enough for you?” is going to get old after another couple of months. Somehow, however, we continue to find connection with others by not just observing the current weather, but also by speculating about the future.

There is some hope in the forecasts. Following the driest May in the century or so that we have been keeping weather records in the hills, there are some who predict that we might see above average precipitation for much of the rest of the summer as monsoonal moisture makes its way up from the southwest. That would be welcome in the hills where we find ourselves sniffing the air for signs of smoke whenever it gets this dry.

Meanwhile my garden is doing well. The plants like the warm temperatures as long as they have enough moisture and while my lawn is getting pretty dry I have been able to keep the vegetable garden irrigated. As usual I have a great crop of weeds as well as the plants I have intentionally planted so there is plenty of work. Early mornings and evenings are very comfortable for a few minutes in the garden so I have no excuse except for my own laziness when it comes to the weeds.

Of course warm temperatures for me means that I think about the lake. While the lake temperatures are rising and the fish are starting to move toward the deeper areas away from the shore, there is still a very large body of relatively cool water. All it takes is a canoe and a paddle and one can have a very pleasant time. Of course the warm temperatures also brings out the jet skiers and water skiers and the pontoons filled with people seeking relief from the hot temperatures. Sheridan lake, where I usually paddle is relatively small and quick to fill up on the weekends. I’ll paddle early this morning to avoid the traffic and that means I’ll be off of the lake when the temperatures are at their peak. Still, I can’t complain. We are so fortunate to have such great recreational facilities so close to our home. My theory of “if your lake is too small get a smaller boat” applies. Even with the lake full of all kinds of traffic a few kids with a couple of air mattresses can have a really fun time in a corner of the lake. I recommend heading to the lake to everyone who complains about the temperatures.

Not everyone is comfortable on the water. I’ve had a number of conversations with folks who have expressed concern about the risks associated with canoeing. I have plenty of safety equipment and always wear my life vest when paddling. I’ve practiced all kinds of self-rescue techniques and know how to re enter and bail out my boat should I capsize. I simply don’t do much that gives me any reason for concern. Paddling on a lake is pretty tame compared to whitewater or surf paddling, both of which are also appealing to me. It is just that we don’t have a lot of either in our neighborhood.

From my point of view paddling for recreation isn’t any where near as dangerous as the warm weather activities of others in our community. Robert Gruss, bishop of our Roman Catholic diocese rides a big motorcycle and will be leading a poker run tomorrow to raise funds for a new building for the Newman Center on the Black Hills State University campus. I’m sure he’ll wear a helmet and riding with a lot of others gives visibility to the motorcycles which adds to the safety of the ride. Still, the adventure seems to carry with it a lot more risk than paddling a canoe across the lake.

Perhaps that is an entirely new topic of conversation for those of us seeking alternatives to what seems to be tired political rhetoric in this long electoral season. We can discuss the comparative risks of our recreational activities. Of course far more people are injured and killed in motorcycle accidents than in boating accidents. On the other hand, far more people ride motorcycles than paddle canoes, so the relative risk might not be as obvious as it seems.

It seems to be the season to make a pitcher of ice tea and invite the neighbors over for to sit on the deck and relax for a few minutes. With luck we’ll find a topic other than politics or the weather for our conversation.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I’m probably repeating myself. I enjoy conversations with physicists. There are a few brilliant physicists in our community whose work revolves around teaching at the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology and the Sanford Underground Laboratory. The deep lab has some amazing experiments and promises to be the home of even more elaborate physics experiments in the future. Physicists, it seems to me, stand out from those whose specialities are other disciplines of science, in their willingness to go beyond what can be directly observed.

Sometimes we think of scientific theory as the process of observation. The method is fairly straightforward: observe, measure, formulate theories about what might occur, test those theories, repeat. Physicists, in a manner that seems to be very similar to theologians, are willing to speculate about the fundamental nature of reality, which is fundamentally hidden from human perception.

For example, as I sit writing this blog this morning, my eyes tell me that I am at my familiar library table, a simple oak table with a single drawer and bookshelf ends. The table is brown, lightly stained and is very solidly built. The problem with my perception is that I am not really experiencing the reality of the table. What I am experiencing is a projection in my mind that is based on sensory input, primarily from my hands and my eyes. I know what I think a table is, but that thought is only in my mind. If I get others into the room and together we discuss the table we might come to a shared image, but we still are not encountering the reality of the table, we are simply coming to a comma image in different minds. Who is to say that what I perceive as brown is not perceived as red by another and simply carrying the same name? We don’t know for sure that different people upon sensing the same object are having identical perceptions.

Physicists are willing to question the fundamental reality of objects. The table appears to be still and solid, but in reality, at the level of atoms it is filled with motion. If theories about the existence of sub atomic particles are correct, there are all kinds of particles that can pass through the table as easily as I can wave my hand through the atmosphere around me.

Those who pursue what have been called “hard” sciences such as biology, chemistry and physics have frequently been dismissive of “soft” sciences such as sociology, philosophy and theology. There is a balance of imagination and observation in all scientific explorations and scientist who pursue knowledge with the tools of direct observation such as microscopes and telescopes are sometimes quick to be critical of those who pursue knowledge through the exercise of imagination and creativity.

Physicists, however, are quick to understand the limits of observation. Things aren’t always what they seem to be. We can observe and measure the motions of distant planets and stars in the universe. The problem is that through careful application of the most sophisticated forms of observation and mathematics, we have discovered that the numbers just don’t add up. What we see cannot be explained by what we know about the universal laws of nature. There must be things that we cannot see that exert gravitational forces and influence the movement of objects in space. Theories of dark matter and dark energy provide a framework for understanding some of the observations that have been made.

In other words, we have to employ the best of human imagination to explain what it is that we have observed.

It is not that long ago, in terms of the history of this planet, that scientific inquiries were seen as theological endeavors. Classic scientists such as Copernicus, Galileo and Newton believed that their observations of the natural world would reveal the personality of the Creator. They saw their endeavors as a way of seeking to know God. Part of the reason that their theories created uproar and dissent among religious leaders was that they were offering an alternative view of God that varied from the official teachings of the institutional church.

Today’s physicists are careful to avoid God language, with at least the one notable exception of referring to the Higgs boson as the “god particle.” This fundamental particle in the standard model of particle physics was first suspected to exist in the 1960’s but it wasn’t until this century that the particle was “discovered” through the use of the large CERN particle projector operated by the European Organization for Nuclear Research. The problem with the “discovery” of this particle is that the experiments that detected it have yet to be repeated. And there is nothing that could be seen by the human eye. It was simply theorized from deviations in the measurements of the experiment. In the field of particle physics even observation requires a substantial application of human imagination.

It is that use of imagination that attracts me to continuing conversations with physicists. I like the way they think. They are not bound by what we currently know, but are continually pushing to discover more, to understand more, to be better able to explain the phenomena of this world.

They are, it seems to me, a new generation of theologians. We, who pursue the love of the study of the knowledge of God, have always believed that there is something in the human capacity for imagination that reveals fundamental truths about the nature of the universe. If we are come to know the essence of reality we will have to stretch beyond our powers of direct observation. There is always something beyond the scope of what we have already experienced.

Physicists are giving us an entirely new language to talk about God, and they are uncomfortable with the language of theologians. But new language might be a very valuable tool in exploring the fundamental nature of the universe. I’m not worried about learning new language. After all, theologians have known for generations that human language and human perception fall far short of the language of God. New ways of expressing ourselves might help us to discover new ways of seeing and understanding that which is beyond the scope of our current understanding.

For now, I treasure opportunities to speak with and listen to the physicists.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

The human body is an amazing creation. We are complex creatures with incredible abilities and amazing diversity. The fact that my brain can think of ideas, translate those concepts into words and then direct my fingers to manipulate a keyboard to write those words to post in the blog is very amazing if you analyze all of the components that have to work together to accomplish this task.

Since we are creatures of such complexity, it shouldn’t surprise us that there are many details of how we function that are not fully understood. Scientists have made great strides towards more fully understanding brain functions in recent years, but it is clear that there is much that is not yet understood.

Complex organs such as the brain and heart have electrical, chemical and mechanical components. Responding to one system can affect another. For example there are medicines which are chemical that can help regulate heart rate which is electrical.

A significant focus of medical research has been into controlling pain. For millennia humans didn’t have very sophisticated methods of dealing with pain. Physicians and surgeons tried to correct the cause of pain, but had few tools for alleviating that pain beyond the body’s natural processes. As recently as the American Civil War, surgeries were routinely performed without anesthetics and patients were forced to endure significant pain without much relief.

The human body, however, is fairly adept at dealing with pain without artificial pain killers. When trauma occurs, there is a natural response activating glands to secrete different chemicals that assist in dealing with the pain. Certain receptors in the brain mute the effects of pain and allow the brain to focus on immediate tasks of solving the problem. Accident victims routinely report that they were able to recognize and respond to injury without feeling unbearable pain. Human bodies produce endorphins that act as natural pain killers.

Pain, however, is necessary. It is a defense mechanism that enables us to stop destructive behavior and seek solutions. If we didn’t experience pain, we wouldn’t have the necessary information to refrain from damaging ourselves.

Pain, however, can be debilitating. This is especially true of chronic pain. There are certain conditions that may be the result of injury or normal deterioration of an aging body that result in pain that is nearly constant. Experiencing such chronic pain can cause the sufferer to focus attention solely on the pain and render that person unable to fully participate in life.

The development of opioid drugs for the treatment of pain has improved the quality of life for many people who suffer from pain. They are especially useful in the treatment of acute pain that results in relatively quick healing. These drugs, however, don’t provide relief for all sufferers. More importantly, they carry with them dangerous and potentially fatal side effects. Addiction to opioids is on the increase in America and abuse of the medicines is rampant in some communities.

What happens is the the brain responds to the pain medicine by increasing the number of receptors for the drug while nerve cells that report the pain cease functioning. The chemical stimulation in the brain causes it to lower the production of endorphins because it is receiving opiates instead. If the medication is continued, nerve cell degeneration continues and often accelerates causing a physical dependency on the drugs.

Most people who take opioids for more than a couple of weeks will experience a decrease in the effectiveness of the drug. This phenomenon, called tolerance, means that a patients need to increase dosage to feel the same effect. Increase the dosage and the dependency of the body on the medication increases. Chasing pain by using increasing dosages finally results in the medication becoming inadequate to deal with the pain while at the same time a physical addiction to the drug means that the sufferer cannot function without it.

It is a viscous cycle and a growing problem. More than 15,000 Americans die each year as the result of opioid overdose, a number that has tripled in the past decade.

Part of the problem is that the pills are so easily obtainable.

Physicians and dentists prescribe the medications because they genuinely want to reduce pain. Patients ask for the medicines because they are afraid of pain. It is common for physicians to overprescribe the medication and it is common for patients who have become addicted to engage in manipulative behavior including obtaining prescriptions from multiple providers, and even stealing medications from others.

To top off those problems the drugs produce a euphoria that is pleasant, especially for those who have not take the drugs previously. This euphoria also is subject to medicine tolerance so that it takes increasing amounts of medicine to produce the same effect for regular users. The recreational use of opioids is on the increase across the country. The effects of addiction are devastating to individuals, families and communities.

These drugs, which have a very useful application in medicine, have become dangerous to many people because of their abuse.

It all stems from our unwillingness to experience pain. A little pain from a dental procedure is not the end of the world, but dentists are afraid of even the most minor pain for their patients fearing that the patients will not return. Enduring a bit of arthritis pain can build endurance and character, but it doesn’t take much time in the pain killer section of a pharmacy or even a grocery store to know that huge amounts of marketing are invested in promising the alleviation of all kinds of pain.

Although over the counter pain medications work on different principles than opioids, the contribute to the problem by promising that people don’t need to experience any pain at all.

Pain has several useful functions in a meaningful life. Among other things, pain is a very effective teacher. Although education researchers have significant evidence that reward is even more effective than punishment, it remains that we can learn from pain. Pain imposed artificially from outside might not be a good practice, but learning to listen to our bodies and learn from our pain is a healthy practice. Overcoming fear of pain to engage more fully in living is a valuable spiritual discipline.

Fortunately, I have not experienced much pain in this life. But as I age, I notice a few more aches and pains. I pray that I will continue to learn from my pain before reaching for a pill to make it go away.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I remember some of the listening exercises that were a part of my introduction to theological seminary. Back in those days, our seminary started incoming students out with three “intensives.” The first semester at Seminary was divided into three three month-long courses, taken one at a time. The first was titled “Christian Existence,” the second “Personal Transformation,” and the third “Social Transformation.” Each involved writing, research, and a lot of reading. But they all also involved specific “hands on” involvement in a variety of exercises and experiences. Somewhere in the process I remember being a bit put off by the requirement. I had come to seminary for serious academic study and I was ready to wrestle with substantive academic discussions and had short patience for personal growth exercises.

Each of those intensives, however, did improve my skill at listening. We had specific techniques for listening and responding to others so that they would know that you had listened and heard what they had said. With enough practice, those techniqes became a part of who I am. Later, when I was working as a counselor towards the end of my seminary career, I was grateful for the lessons in careful listening.

Listening is one of the skills I honed in school that I use every day of my life.

I don’t know that I’m one of the best listeners. I am easily distracted. I often will allow pressing business and a busy schedule to keep me from listening as intently as I might. But in general people recognize me as someone who will listen to what it is that they have to say.

Perhaps because I am a listener, or perhaps because I am old enough to have faced a draft during war time, or perhaps because I somehow fit a notion of what a pastor is like - whatever the reason, I have often been the one to whom a person pours out his or her heart.

I know from experience that when someone says, “This isn’t something that I’ve ever talked about,” or “I haven’t shared this with anyone else, but,” it is time for me to pay special attention and listen to what is being shared. It is through such encounters that I have heard some remarkable stories of human dignity, courage, resilience and faith. I have understood compassion at a new level because of some of the things that people have told me about their lives. And I have become a bit of a collector of stories.

Many of the stories that I have heard simply aren’t mine to tell. I know a story, but it is someone else’s story and I don’t have permission to share it. Confidentiality is critical in the practice of any profession, doubly so for a pastor. And people wouldn’t tell me some of the stories I know if there was any chance that I would pass that story along with any identifying information.

Some of the stories fit into categories. Over the years, I have collected a large number of war stories. I started hearing stories from World War II veterans who were nearing the end of their lives. They had been taught not to talk about the war. “Loose lips sink ships.” They returned from the war with their attention steadily focused on raising families and building community and they were amazingly successful at putting the war behind themselves and getting on with their lives. But there were experiences and memories that were lodged deeply within their psyches and they needed someone with whom to share their stories. I happened to be in the right place at the right time. I’ve heard about the process of training high altitude bombardiers, I’ve learned of what it was like to be with the first US troops to visit Hiroshima, I’ve heard of desert warfare and the special troops who used skis to conquer European mountain passes.

Interestingly, the next stories I began to collect in my career as a pastor were stories of Vietnam. I think that movies like The Deer Hunter, which came out the year I was ordained; The Boys in Company C that came out the same year; and Apocalypse Now which came out the next year triggered memories for some Vietnam War veterans about a decade after their war experiences.

Stories of Korea came later in my experience, perhaps triggered by end of life issues for those veterans. If that is the case, I can expect that more stories of Vietnam will be a part of the very end of my career as a pastor.

Of course the reason that I know these stories is that the people who lived those experiences needed to tell their stories, not that I needed to hear them. I listened because it was in the best interests of those whom I was called to serve. Once in my brain, however, the stories don’t go away. They get added to my own lived experiences, the things I have discovered through reading and research and the other stories and experiences that have been shared with me.

As I have said, these stories aren’t mine to tell. Although I probably could write a book of war stories, don’t expect it from me. I will occasionally make reference to a story someone told me, as I did recently in this blog, but I’m careful not to identify an individual and to speak in very general terms about what I have been told.

What I know, however, is that memories of war permanently shape the lives of those who have experienced war. The men (and they are mostly men) who have shared their war stories had lives that were transformed by their experiences, and not always for the better. I can’t help but wonder if I am being shaped and affected by simply having so many stories of such terrible experiences. Could just having heard about cruelty and innocent victims and the trauma of battle shape my thinking and way of perceiving the world? I don’t know the answer to this question.

What I do know is that a great deal of courage and heroism goes un-heralded. I know that the cost of war is extremely high. I know that those who die are not the only victims of war.

Perhaps it is possible to learn from the experiences of others. If so, perhaps their stories should be shared in an appropriate way in due time. I don’t know for sure. I’m hoping that time will tell.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

Yesterday, as I was leaving the lake after my morning paddle, I was surprised to see a magnificent bighorn ram strut across the road. After standing for a brief moment, he trotted off into the trees out of sight. It was a place where I have never before seen bighorn sheep, though it was about half way between two areas where we have seen the animals many times before. A lone ram could easily have been traveling between two bands.

One of the deep joys of living in the hills is being able to frequently see wildlife. I’m not sure that the deer and turkeys who visit our yard every day are quite fully wild. The turkeys show signs of regular visits to sources of food that have a decidedly human origin. I’ve decreased my feeding of the birds, but when I did so, the turkeys would scour the ground underneath the feeders, picking up every seed that had been dropped by birds who are more adept at flying - or at least at landing on a precise point. I once watched a turkey make an attempt to glide from the roof of the house to a bird feeder that wouldn’t have supported its weight. The turkey, however, missed its goal and went tumbling in the grass. Comic relief aside, I’m pretty sure that the wild turkeys get their share of food from human sources.

The deer in our neighborhood have become urbanized as more and more homes spring up in the area. Twenty years ago, the deer were definitely more flighty. If I noticed deer in the yard and turned on my porch light, they would scatter and run. These days the neighbor’s motion-activated light stays on all night long as the deer peacefully graze under its glow, almost as if they appreciate the light to see what they are eating. When I go out to get the newspaper in the morning the deer in our front yard might raise their heads and look at me, but they won’t run even when I approach within 25 or 30 feet. When I do come too close, they simply take a few steps, knowing that I’m unlikely to quicken my pace or actually pursue them.

Yesterday I saw a sight that would have made a good photograph. A doe was grazing right at the back bumper of a camping trailer parked alongside the highway a mile or so from our house. The scene wasn’t remarkable. The grass hadn’t been mown under the camper and the deer was reaching beneath the bumper to get a bit of the lush green grass. What made the picture was that the camp trailer was a Coyote model. I commented to my wife was we drove past, “It isn’t often that you see a coyote and a deer so close to each other in the wild.”

Our animals are excellent neighbors. They are fun to watch, but never get involved in our business. They are quiet, except for occasional turkey outbursts. There have been times when we would regularly hear the coyotes singing at night, but at present we don’t seem to have many in our area. It might be due to the increase in the mountain lion population in the hills. I don’t know how many lions there are out there. I’ve only seen one in the wild in 21 years of living here, but there are lots of sightings reported by others. The last coyote I caught a glimpse of running across the meadow probably was suffering from mange. Its coat was pretty rough. Animal populations rise and fall in their natural settings and I suspect that we’ve experienced a decline in the number of coyotes.

Coyotes are, however, very adaptable animals and I suspect that the population will return to higher levels as the years pass.

The bighorn sheep population has really undergone swings in number. At one time they were eliminated from the hills and had to be reintroduced by transporting animals from other parts of the country. Fortunately, the reintroduction of the animals has gone well. It has not, however, ben without ups and downs. The sheep are susceptible to a variety of diseases. I don’t know much about the diseases that affect the sheep. I don’t think they can get chronic wasting disease from deer or elk, but I think there is a related disease, similar to scrapie in domestic sheep. At any rate, the numbers of bighorn sheep seem to rise and fall on a regular basis in the hills.

We used to joke that it appeared that the bighorn sheep are catholic. The Cleghorn band that hung out around the fish hatchery on the west side of town could often be seen grazing in the lawn of Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church. However, our church regularly has deer grazing in our lawn and we haven’t noticed any inclinations toward worship or other religious activities.

It is good to pause occasionally and give thanks for simply being able to live in such a beautiful place so rich in resources and life. In an increasingly urbanized world with the crush of expanding human populations the luxury of living with a bit of space and a few non human neighbors is a good fortune that many don’t experience. I read the news of the extensive gun violence in Chicago over the weekend and my heart aches for the grieving families and for children who grow up where the sound of gunfire in the streets is a regular punctuation to their lives. I don’t know if city dwellers would feel lonely and isolated in the hills, but I do know that feel closed in and claustrophobic when I spend too much time in a city. Sleeping with my windows open and no bars on them seems to be preferable from constant vigilance and fear.

Yesterday was a special treat for me. I got to paddle for a while in the very early morning and then we returned to the lake in the late afternoon for an additional paddle and a picnic along the shore before paddling back to the parking area. How fortunate we are to live in this place.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I remember when my friends began to get GPS devices. They were so proud of this new technology and eager to demonstrate how it could guide them wherever they wanted to go. The map databases, however, weren’t very accurate in the early days. One day a colleague and I were in St. Louis and had a break from our meeting and wanted to go visit the arch. After driving around and around to the directions of his GPS, I finally said, “I can see it. Why don’t we ignore the GPS, turn right at the next intersection and look for a place to park. Fortunately my colleague took no offense and despite the “recalculating” message from his GPS turned right, drove two blocks and parked within easy walking distance of the arch.

Another day that same colleague headed out to find the home of a family who lives in the hills. After he was still missing a half hour after he was supposed to arrive, I received a phone call from him. He was more than twenty miles away from his destination following the GPS that was leading him still farther away.

And I’ll never forget the time my brother-in-law, not exactly a country boy to begin with, headed out with our daughters in his car to run an errand. When he didn’t return to the ranch and was very late, we found out that he had somehow managed to follow his GPS to the wrong side of the river and finally had found his way back by taking a ferry. How he got on the wrong side of the Missouri River without knowing it in the first place was a mystery to me.

The data bases are more accurate these days and I have a GPS unit that I use quite a bit, especially for finding addresses when I travel to cities. It is also helpful when I receive a call from Sheriff’s dispatch. They now expect me to follow my GPS and don’t need to give me directions to the desired destination. Most of the time it works pretty well.

However, the GPS doesn’t know the location of our church camp and think that I’m cutting across roadless country when I drive the two miles from the highway to camp. That road has been there for a long time.

And, every once in a while I’ll be driving down the Interstate on a beautiful day and the display of my GPS unit will show me off to one side of the highway. That one got me to thinking. I think that we may need some of those bugs worked out before I’m going to have a good feeling about driverless cars. I wonder what they would do when the satellite maps say that they have gone off of the road. Would they just stop, confused, in the middle of the Interstate? Or would they try to go offloading all of a sudden while driving at freeway speeds? I know that they rely in part on multiple systems, so presumably when the cameras detected information that was different than the satellite information they would have some way of resolving the conflict.

Which brings to mind another worry about driverless cars. I think they use cameras to keep the car in the proper lane as they drive down the highway. That’s all good and nice this time of year when there is fresh paint on the highway. But most of the year, you can’t see the lines on the roads around here. Give us a few blizzards and a couple of weeks of heavily salted roads and the paint pretty much washes off of the road. If I can’t see the lines, do I think that a camera could keep the car in the right lane?

And, as long as I’m on the subject, I know that complex and carefully drawn up computer algorithms ensure that self-driving cars obey the rules of the road. But do they know the local customs of somewhat less legalistic humans. I know that in Idaho, for example, people often don’t stay in their own lane. Here in Rapid City, people think that a yellow light means speed up, not slow down. In Alberta, a double line is a challenge to a car wanting to pass. Technology can drive the autonomous car according to the rules of the road, but how is is going to deal with people who have a much less rigid adherence to those rules? Just a few days ago I saw a tourist driving the wrong way on one of our one way streets down town. I wonder how the self-driving car would deal with that.

And, of course, we have three major seasons in our part of the world: Winter, the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, and Road Construction. It’s that third season that worries me when it comes to those driverless cars. That is a special problem this year. We’ve got a real display of orange highway cones all over town. I can no longer get to and from the church, regardless of the route I choose, without going by a few of those things. My theory is that the low oil prices have forced a slowdown in the oil fields in North Dakota resulting in an abundance of unemployed orange traffic cones in our neighbor to the north. Some of those extra cones have come south of the border in search of employment and ended up stretched out alongside our highways. At least there are quite a few in areas where there doesn’t appear to be any actual work being done. I’m not sure how those driverless cars are going to deal with detours and lanes that have been changed with orange cones.

I’m hopeful about the technology, however. If they could teach a car to know how deep a pothole is, they’d really have something. I never can tell until it’s too late. Either I slow down too much and annoy my passengers and the cars behind me or I don’t slow down enough and risk my tires and alignment. If there was a car that could deal with potholes, and even miss a few more that I do, I’d be interested in it.

For now, I’m sticking to driving my own car and I’ll leave the driverless cars to others. After all, if they can teach a driverless car to share the road with the likes of me they will have really accomplished something.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I don’t know if other ministers are this way, but I can be fairly harsh in my judgment of my colleagues. I understand that there are many differences in our skills and abilities and that God calls all kinds of people into positions of leadership. I know that different gifts are given to different people. I know that some things come easier for some. And I think that I am pretty tolerant and accepting of differences in ability and skill. What I am intolerant about is what comes off as a lack of effort and preparation.

I know that my judgment of those things is likely to be faulty. What comes off as a lack of preparation might be a person doing the best that they are able. Some people have to work much harder at certain tasks than others. Public speaking is a clear example. For some the rhythm and flow and vocal variety that make for a good public speaker are natural abilities. For others they are difficult challenges. A “sing song” voice that rises and falls without relationship to the content of the speech is often a sign of nervousness. The difference between repetition for emphasis and meaningless repetition is very fine and not every public speaker can achieve that balance easily.

A church meeting is a good place to hear a variety of speakers. We were led by clergy and lay people throughout the weekend and many different voices offered many examples of both effective and ineffective speech.

The keynote speaker for the event was a skillful and engaging preacher. It was obvious that she had put a lot of effort into the organization and content of her presentations. She was practiced and knew how to get her listeners involved in what she was saying. She encouraged us to think and participate. It was a pleasure to listen to what she had to say and I felt challenged and led by her presentations.

Another speaker at the event was trying to be inspirational, but really fell short of my expectations. What was supposed to be a casual style came off as a lack of organization and preparation. At one point the speaker even told a personal story about preparing for the presentation in which preparation has begun less than a a week before this major once-in-a-year event. I wasn’t impressed.

My notes about the content of the second person’s presentation were taken from the 1st speaker’s synopsis of the presentation given in a later talk to the gathered conference. I had assumed that there wasn’t anything worth remembering in that speech until later when the gifted preacher lifted up some of the content of the other’s talk.

I suppose that I should work on learning to listen more carefully.

The problem is that our denomination, and many other mainline denominations, has been losing members at an alarming rate. The overall membership of our denomination is less than 50% of what it was when I began my career as a minister. I have served congregations in rural and urban communities, in growing and shrinking population areas and never been called to serve amidst membership decline. There have been ups and downs, but the rapid decline of the denomination hasn’t occurred in the congregations I serve. I have watched colleagues, however, who have pastored a lot of decline. One of the big factors are the “hit and run” pastors who never stay in a community for very long. They come to a church, stay for a while and then leave, never really witnessing the impact of their departure on the congregation. Pastors leaving and conflict over pastors generally has a devastating effect on church membership.

Where I am harshest about my judgment, however, is when a minister seems to focus entirely on trying to be the center of attention. Some can tell the stories of our people. Others seem to be only able to tell their own stories. Some can enable us to see ourselves in their presentations. Others want to talk about themselves.

A preacher’s job is not to be remembered by the congregation, but to have the congregation remember the Gospel. As a preaching professor put it when I was in school, “Do you want people to go away thinking what a good preacher you are, or remembering the Gospel and how good God is?”

A good preacher always leads us beyond themselves into relationship with God.

Perhaps one of the purposes of the Conference gathering is to see the distinction. A group of preachers get together with lay delegates and we spend a weekend listening to a lot of other preachers and are able to observe what is good and what is not so good. Perhaps the experience is a teacher that will influence how we speak to and treat the congregations we serve.

An older colleague and mentor said to me early in my pastoral experience, “When you go on vacation, get someone who is a poor preacher to fill the pulpit. That way they’ll appreciate you when you return.” Actually I disagree with that advice. I think that we should always seek the best available leadership for the church and that our people deserve the best preaching possible every Sunday. After all the experience of worship isn’t about the preacher in the first place. Those who continually seek to be the center of attention often fail to communicate the Gospel.

I’ve taken enough psychology classes to know that bluster often is a cover for insecurity. I know that blow hards often have huge self doubt. I am sure that there are reasons other than incompetence that account for the differences in the quality of presentations. Still, I am convinced that this calling requires hard work and disciplined preparation and I am quick to react when it appears that a pastor has simply failed to prepare properly for the work to which that person has been called.

The theme of our conference was visionary leadership. The presenter who demonstrated visionary leadership will have much more long term impact than the one who simply talked about it.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I’ve been attending Conference Annual Meetings since I was a teenager. As a high school and college student I went to the meetings because of the relationships I had with other people across the conference – relationships mostly forged at summer camp. There were people who I wanted to see. Some of those “must see” people were ministers who had made a difference in my life. I had been touched by genuine compassion and caring and people who somehow were able to see a glimmer of promise in me. I wanted to be next to them, to listen to what they had to say, and learn from them.

It was at one of those early meetings that I learned that there is another side to a Conference meeting. The meeting took place on the college campus that I would later attend. The plenary sessions were in a large auditorium in the then-brand-new athletic building. We sat in our seats as the search committee introduced us to their candidate to become our new Conference Minister. There were quite a few people who were surprised by their choice. Many had expected that the current associate conference minister would be the choice, but there was an entirely new person being introduced to us. I was aware that some people were disappointed with the choice. I was also aware that there were people on both sides of the issue whose opinions I valued and whose ideas were important to me.

There have been a whole lot of conference meetings since that time. I’ve participated in at least three other votes for new conference ministers, one where I made the presentation of the candidate as the secretary of the search committee. I have served as moderator of the Conference and chaired debate when critical issues faced the assembly. There have been revisions of conference constitutions and bylaws and resolutions on social justice issues. There have been contested elections and disagreements over a wide variety of different topics. I’ve made a few impassioned speeches over the years and believed that the decisions we were making were critical to the future of the church.

To be honest, there have also been more than a few boring sessions where people seemed to be grandstanding and saying nothing significant at all. I can say it now that I am not only a minister, but one of the senior ministers of the Conference, when you get a bunch of ministers together there will always be a few who just like to hear the sound of their own voices and who will step up to the microphone with nothing to offer to the gathering.

The spark of excitement over a Conference Annual Meeting has been dulled by the passage of time and there have even been a few years when I skipped the event entirely, always making sure that our congregation was represented, but knowing that the business of the conference was not dependent upon my participation.

And I’ve seen enough meetings come and go to know that sometimes the issue that seems so important at the time is of little or no importance a few years later – sometimes it isn’t even important a few weeks later.

Some of the changes over the years reflect the changes in the world where we live. When we lived in North Dakota, registration for the meeting was $15 and meals ranged from $2 to $10. Registration for this year’s South Dakota Conference Annual Meeting is $80 with meals ranging from $10 to $33. Complaining about the numbers would just illustrate how old I am and how far back I can remember, and contribute nothing to the planners of future meetings, who don’t have the power to control the cost of meals and travel and lodging for guest speakers.

There is, however, something more important going on that affects my attitude toward these meetings over the years.

There was a time when the Conference’s vitality and importance to local congregations was clear to me. The conference was a center of programming for local congregations. It provided resources for Christian Education, programs for lay leadership development, youth ministry programs and a great deal more. As a young pastor, I turned to the Conference Office for support and pastoral care for myself. I looked up to the Conference Minister as an example that I sought to emulate. Conference meetings were exciting because the worship services at those meetings had exciting music and dynamic speakers and fresh ideas.

As the years have passed, however, and resources at the conference level have decreased, the role of the conference has shifted. Conferences are no longer the source of resources or programs for local churches. The Conference annual meeting is no longer a large gathering. Conference worship also has music that is less innovative and less well presented than typical for our congregation’s every week worship and the congregation is usually smaller than our usual as well. Times have changed. The role of the conference in today’s church is largely bureaucratic - a mid-level bureaucracy that still fulfills some important functions such as assisting congregations with finding clergy when needed, being a conduit for financial support of national and international ministries, and providing a structure to oversee our camp property.

Today we will vote on a proposal to restructure the leadership of the Conference, forming a partnership with two other conferences to create a shared staff. While the proposal seems innovative on the surface, the results will be a bit of a throwback to the time when individual conferences could afford multiple staff. The new staff will be hierarchical with a senior minister and several associates, very similar to the model employed by conferences twenty or thirty years ago. The new structure, however, will cover the territory previously covered by three conferences. I can envision the process repeating with more and more combinations in future years until conferences are essentially regions and one level of church bureaucracy is eliminated. I have no doubt that the proposal will pass.

Change is essential in any organization and inevitable. I have no reason to oppose the change. I can, however, grieve the loss of support and program from the Conference.

On the other hand, perhaps it will result in fewer meetings freeing up more time for ministry. That wouldn’t be a bad result.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

Philosophers know that when it comes to quotes from ancient Greeks, it is a bit difficult to discern which came from specific individuals and which came from schools of thought. We often quote Socrates, for example, but Socrates wasn’t a writer. It isn’t as if we have volumes of Socratic writings from which to draw quotes for translation. Most of what we know of Socrates comes from the writings of Plato. Plato’s Apology describes the trial and death of Socrates. The charges were impiety and corrupting youth. The sentence was death. It is from that Apology that we gained the famous Socratic quote, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”

Socrates believed that the love and pursuit of wisdom was the highest value of life. He believed that wisdom could be pursued through questioning logical arguments, examining every thought and idea and by thinking deeply not only about actions but also about motivations. His influence was fairly widespread. Even after his death there were many others who attempted to follow the Socratic examination of life. From a Socratic perspective, philosophy - the love of wisdom - is the discipline of examining life.

Socrates, I believe, would be dismayed at the state of education in the United States today. Primarily vocation-oriented, the so-called “hard” sciences have taken precedence over less technical subjects such as languages, liberal arts, psychology, sociology, philosophy and theology. This stands in contrast to the founding days of American higher education, when philosophy was a discipline applied to all studies. The philosophy of science, for example was required to be studied by those pursuing degrees in biology or chemistry of physics. Things have changed. The rush to create more engineers for the rapidly growing computer industry has resulted with graduates who have excellent technical skills, but who rarely ask questions about why they do a particular job or the meaning of their contributions to society or the ethics of business practices. When those questions arise they discover that there was little in their college education to provide them resources for wrestling with those questions. It seems that unexamined lives abound in today’s world.

Of course, although I have studied philosophy and theology and the history of philosophy, it is presumptuous and perhaps inaccurate to claim knowledge of the thoughts of Socrates. And even if I am correct in my speculation about Socratic thought, the question of the relevance of such to today’s educational scene remains. Still there is great value in ideas and concepts that have been around for thousands of years. Ancient thoughts have endured the test of time and been refined by generations. Despite the rapid advance of the technical sciences, it remains true that there are a few great ideas that require multiple thinkers and generations of careful analysis. There are a few great ideas that cannot be fully examined by a single individual in a single lifetime.

Socrates’ ideas about death, then, become quite interesting, because his death became the impetus for a new generation of Socratic thinkers. His ideas endured beyond his death and were refined by subsequent generations of thinkers.

The Quaker educator, Parker Palmer, took that Socratic notion and turned it inside out in a 2015 graduation address at Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado. He said, “If the unexamined life is not worth living, it’s equally true that the unloved life is not worth examining.” His challenge to those young adults was clear. He was inviting them to open themselves to the grandeur and glory of life: to pursue their passions and chase their curiosities and risk dangers in order to be fully alive. The philosopher Sam Keene put it differently, “The goal is to die only at the end of your life,” by which he meant that one needs to have been fully alive in order to make death meaningful.

I have become convinced that it is an important task for all human beings, regardless of their ages, to become aware of our mortality. Our lives do not go on forever. Our time is limited. The choices we make about how we invest that time are critical. Hope, generosity, and gratitude are possible only when we open our lives and refuse to take the gifts of life for granted. An awareness that each of us will one day die is key to understanding the precious value of being alive.

Unlike famous thinkers like Palmer and Keene, I am unlikely to be invited to deliver a graduation address. I doubt that many graduates are in a position to focus intently and deeply learn from a graduation speech anyway. In my encounters with young adults who are graduating and facing other significant moments of their lives, however, I have become convinced that one role I can play is to remind them that suffering and death are realities in this life. Their journey will be deeper and more meaningful if they learn to accept suffering and develop ways of dealing with it rather than avoiding it and directing it at others when it arises. Similarly, their lives will be richer and their contributions to the world more significant if they live with an awareness of the reality of death and the precious value of life.

I’m not exactly sure how to best communicate these ideas to young people. Most of the youth with whom I work these days are headed to college in the pursuit of technical degrees and won’t be registering for the few philosophy courses that remain in contemporary Universities. Many of them won’t engage religious thinking on a level even as deep as their confirmation classes for decades. So I look for moments that occur naturally in the course of their lives. The death of a grandparent, a tragic accident, an unexpected illness - these become moments of informal teaching and invitations to engage deeper thinking. The role of the pastor in such events is to bring comfort, to be sure, but I believe it reaches deeper as well. We have been called to teach in all settings and occasions. As a teacher I can at least point out and give words to the realities of their experiences in critical moments.

In each generation there are a few lives that are both examined and fully lived. I trust that will be true of those who are coming into adulthood in the present. We may not be the most skilled at sharing wisdom with those who are younger. But there are a few great ideas and a few great concepts that are worth passing on. The truly great ideas belong not only to the past, but to the future as well.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

The psychologist Erik Erikson developed a model of psychosocial development that included five stages up to the age of 18 years and three further stages beyond. Each stage involved a struggle between mental health and mental illness. The failure to accomplish the tasks of one stage prevented continuing development. Of course Erickson’s analysis was much deeper, but the framework has been useful to me as I worked with people of all ages and I have often returned to his landmark work, “Childhood and Society” for understanding.

In Erickson’s model, the last developmental stage for humans is “Ego Integrity vs. Despair. As we grow older and become senior citizens, we tend to slow down our productivity, and explore life as a retired person. It is during this time that we contemplate our accomplishments and are able to develop integrity if we see ourselves as leading a successful life.

Erikson believed if we see our lives as unproductive, feel guilt about our past, or feel that we did not accomplish our life goals, we become dissatisfied with life and develop despair, often leading to depression and hopelessness.

Success in this stage will lead to the virtue of wisdom. Wisdom enables a person to look back on their life with a sense of closure and completeness, and also accept death without fear.


Erikson himself acknowledged that his theories were descriptive and did not adequately explain how or why development occurs. While they provide a helpful framework for understanding parts of life, they don’t provide a recipe or path for successful development.

As I think about the task of my current life phase, it seems to me that the development of integrity involves discernment. Discernment isn’t often used as a psychological term, but it is an important concept in religious thinking. As I age I discover that more and more of my attention is devoted to sorting out the accumulations of life. Part of this sorting is the physical sorting of acquired objects. We invested part of our resources and energy in acquiring things over the span of our life. We have a home filled with furniture and possessions. We have closets filled with clothing. We have kept some things that we no longer use. Some items are treasured because of their history and the stories that have come with them. Some items are kept, for reasons that escape us.

Aging involves a lot of decisions about what to keep and what to release. Some things are best simply left where they are, but often we have to move objects in order to undertake the discipline of sorting. In the lives of seniors, the sorting becomes most evident when a physical move is undertaken. When a couple downsizes from a home to an apartment, they can’t take everything with them. The church rummage sale has a banner year.

The trick, of course, is figuring out what to keep and what to recycle, repurpose or discard. The process of deciding is discernment.

The task might be a bit less daunting if the only thing that needed sorting was possessions. Humans, however, are far more complex than simply possessors of items. We also have memories and experiences and all sorts of other areas of our lives that require sorting and discernment.

Are there old grudges that I’ve been carrying for years? It is time to discard them. Are there old hurts that haven’t yet healed? It is time to sort them out and move on.

One of the ongoing sorting tasks of my life is photographs. I have quite a quantity of printed photographs and still have more than a thousand slides. Bit by bit I am trying to scan and sort. Certainly there are many photographs that do not need to be retained. Having too large of an unsorted digital collection makes the important images as difficult to find as if they were jumbled in a drawer of prints. The challenge of sorting photographs is that they trigger memories. As I attempt to sort the images, I am also recalling the past and sorting the stories of my life. A single image can set off a flood of memories.

I assume that I’m engaging in Erickson’s task of developing integrity. My life is not just a series of disconnected experiences and events. They fit into a whole and that whole is me. Who I am has grown out of the things I have done, the people I have known, and the experiences we have shared. My life is more than a random set of experiences. It is a whole, but it isn’t always clear how all of the pieces fit together. It is likely that the summer I spent tipping cans into the back of a garbage truck somehow informs my work as a pastor and teacher, but the connections aren’t always direct. Some days, however, having served in a variety of different roles is as valuable to the completion of my days as is a theological education and the list of courses I have taken.

I suppose that I am approaching the stage of my life where writing a memoir might be in order. The process of telling my story in some kind of cogent order should force me to do a lot of discernment. There are stories worth telling and others that are less important. There are experiences that inform my story and others that only offer an anecdotal connection. The task of sorting out and writing down my life, however, seems as daunting to me as sorting out my library. I know that I need to get rid of hundreds of books if for no other reason than to save my children from that difficult task if I don’t get it done before I die.

One of the important parts of discernment is allowing God to influence my decisions. Sometimes the most important thing is to remember that everything came from God and ultimately everything belongs to God. Giving up an object or a memory doesn’t mean that it is lost to God.

Perhaps one key to my own integrity is my ability to release to God the accumulations of a lifetime.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.

I grew up around airplanes. For the most part, my parents operated fairly small aircraft. The workhorse of our fleet was a Piper Super Cub, which had two seats in tandem. Over the years we had models ranging from 90 to 150 horsepower. The cubs were used for chemical application, some had belly tanks and some had a tank that fit into the back seat of the aircraft. We also used cubs for fire patrol, game counts, search and rescue and other missions in the backcountry. Our company also kept a four seat airplane for charter work that could be converted to carry a pilot, a flight nurse and a single stretcher for air ambulance duty. Sometimes we had more than one airplane of this size.

Our largest airplane, however, was a converted military surplus C-45G. It was manufactured by Beechcraft and the civilian designation of the plane was Beech 18. Ours had two 450 hp engines, retractable gear and a cabin that would accommodate seats for up to 10, though usually we flew it with some of the seats removed for increased cargo area. Compared to the other airplanes we operated, the Beech was fast. It could go over 200 mph and its best economy cruise was around 185 mph at altitude. It had large fuel tanks and was capable of long distances. The longest trip I ever took in the airplane was from Big Timber, Montana to Washington, DC, with a single fuel stop in Indianapolis. The trip was completed in a single day. On the return trip, we made an overnight stop in Chicago.

Growing up the way that I did, I’ve always been interested in travel and have wanted to take some big trips. I was 25 years old the first time I had an opportunity to take a really long flight. We flew commercially from Edmonton Canada to Amsterdam, Netherlands. The trip was just under 9 hours. I remember being especially impressed that the Boeing 747 had crew relief quarters. The pilots were able to take a break while other pilots flew during the flight. We returned by the same route with roughly the same flight time.

To date my record long-distance flight was from Los Angeles to Melbourne, Australia. That trip involved 15 hours and 45 minutes in flight, just a tad shorter than the 15 hour return from Sydney, Australia to LA. Both of those legs involved connecting flights as well so total travel in a single day stretched to about 18 hours. These flights involved crossing over the International Date Line, so we “lost” a day on the outbound trip and for the return trip we landed at very nearly the same time on the clock as our departure time.

I’ve also been able to fly from Vancouver, BC to London, a trip that took about 10 hours.

I enjoy reading, and sometimes dreaming, about the longest flights on the globe. The technology of airliners now make it possible to travel between any two points on the globe nonstop. That ability does not, however, translate into profit for airlines, so practical point to point travel depends on the number of people wanting to make the trip. Long flights, therefore, are always from one population center to another. For many years, the longest flight leader was Singapore Airlines’ nearly 19-hour flight from Newark, NJ to Singapore. That flight, however, is not currently operating as the company awaits the delivery of new aircraft in 2018. When it resumes, the newer aircraft will be a bit faster and times will be somewhat shorter.

Today, the longest regularly-scheduled airline trip on the planet is from Auckland, New Zealand to Dubai. The trip takes 17 hours and 15 minutes and covers 8,819 miles. That isn’t a flight I’m ever likely to take, so I’ve been dreaming of a shorter distance that takes about the same amount of time: San Francisco to Delhi, India. There is also a Quantas flight from Sydney Australia direct to Dallas, Texas that comes in at 16 hours and 50 minutes.

It is clear that we have figured out how to safely transport people over very long distances and that people are up to traveling for times approaching 20 hours in an airliner. Long-distance flights, of course, have meal and beverage service and extended periods of time when passengers can get up and move about the cabin. The aircraft tend to have larger restroom facilities for a bit of clean-up and sophisticated entertainment systems for television viewing. They also have larger spaces for carry-on luggage, power ports for charging personal electronic devices and Wi-fi Internet access that, while not operating at the highest speeds is reasonably reliable.

More intriguing to me are the details of the aircraft. A new generation of more fuel-efficient aircraft are now being put into service. These planes are made out of more lightweight composite materials. That weight savings translates to lower fuel consumption and lower fuel consumption means additional weight savings as the fuel required is a large percentage of total takeoff weight. There are some really innovative cabin improvements in 1st class and business class. Some seats fully recline to allow more comfortable sleeping. I, however, am unlikely to be occupying those seats. I do enjoy the few photographs I have seen of the crew cabins. These super-long flights carry even more extra crew. Sometimes the pilot who takes off the plane is not the same one that lands at the other end of the flight.

I’ve always taken a lot more trips in my imagination than I’ve been able to undertake in real living. Although we have some big trips in our future, I doubt that I’ll ever really set any records for length or duration of flying. I’ll leave those trips to others. In the meantime, I enjoy thinking about the travel possibilities that exist and adventures that are possible.

I estimate today’s travel from home to the church will take around 14 minutes.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.