What a Body!

Roots in Ripon

25 January 2016

Chuck Roots

www.chuckroots.com

What a Body!

You may be raising your eyebrows at this point, clearly wondering if I’ve gone over to the dark side. Rest assured, all is well with me.

The body I’m referring to is the congregation to which Isaura and I have been so much a part of the past 18 years, sixteen of which I was the pastor.

It was about three years ago when I was sensing God leading me to retirement from pastoral ministry. There were several contributing factors in making this decision. In no particular order or level of importance, these reasons primarily had to do with: my health; the need for a new pastor to take the reins; more time to invest in my grandkids; more opportunities to get away with Isaura on trips hither and yon; and the desire to get serious about writing several books. Then of course, there’s golf.

But never for a moment did we want to be away from our church family, also known as, the Body of Christ on earth; the Fellowship of the Saints; the Gathering; the Brethren; the Flock; the Laity; the Multitude; Parishioners; and so forth. Regardless of what name this group of Believers in Jesus goes by, they are a wonderful assemblage of people who have had an encounter with Jesus, and because of that their lives are forever changed.

I’m often amused when I hear someone tell me why they do not go to church (I suppose I should mention that the only time I ever ask a person where they attend church is if they have already informed me that they are a Christian). “The church is full of hypocrites!” is quite possibly my favorite. I love the expression on their faces when I tell them I absolutely agree with them. “All the church ever wants is my money!” is another favorite of mine. Once again, I agree with them. How else is this non-profit organization going to function if there’s no “buy-in” by people who have committed to walking with Jesus? “No one even said hello or shook my hand when I visited!” And the companion complaint, “After I attended church I never received a call or a card or anything!” The flip side of this complaint is, “These people never leave me alone! One visit and I’m on their mailing and calling list forever!” And again: guilty as charged. If I say hello, then I’m pushy. If I don’t say hello or shake your hand, I’m cold and uncaring. If I don’t let the people in the pews know of the financial obligations of the church then folks figure they don’t have to give anything in the offering plate. If I do share the financial needs of the church and its ministry, then we’re “sticking our hands into your wallet/purse.” And so on it goes.

But the people that make up the body of my church are just folks. You see, over the past two decades, my wife and I have gotten to know them, and they have gotten to know us. I remember one couple especially that we invited to our home for dinner along with several other couples shortly after arriving in Ripon. Isaura had planned a big dinner which she wonderfully prepares. It’s a gift with her. This couple had started attending church again after we came because he was a WWII veteran, and had heard I was also a veteran so he was coming to “check me out.” But they weren’t sure about going to the pastor’s home for dinner. They had never done that before. They even asked me how they should act. I said, “We’re just people like anyone else. Be yourselves.” They became precious friends.

I still enjoy attending the first service at 8:30 on Sunday, followed by the pastor’s Sunday school class at 10:00. I then stay for the first part of the 11:00 service so I can sing the hymns again (I love to sing!) and also meet and greet these folks I love.

The congregation I am a part of is made up of all sorts of disreputable people. Their backgrounds are often sordid and foul. Some were drunkards. Others sexually immoral. Still others crude and profane. Some cheated on their spouses. Or suffered with depression. Or were addicted to drugs. Some were living a lie. Some still are (the hypocrites mentioned earlier). Some have kicked the habit, fallen off, kicked it again, fallen off again, etc. Some are running from God while sitting in the pew every Sunday. Some harbor resentments and exhibit an unforgiving spirit. Shall I go on?

Here’s my point. The church is not a place for those who are perfect. Instead, it is a hospital for the spiritually sick. Remember: Jesus did not come to save perfect people, but sick, horribly flawed sinners. And we have all been affected (and infected) by sin. Jesus is the antidote. But you must come to him for the cure.

This is why I love the folks in my church so much. They have either come to Jesus and been healed of the sin sickness. Or they are wrestling with a commitment to surrender their lives to him. Or they are just not sure about anything, but they know they need something. My kind of people!

Jesus said, “Let not your hearts be troubled. You believe in God. Believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions, for I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again to receive you unto myself, that where I am, there you may be also . . . I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

Where do you stand with Jesus? Accept him as your Savior. Then connect with his body. You’ll love it too!

Miss Manners

Roots in Ripon

18 January 2016

Chuck Roots

www.chuckroots.com

I Miss Manners

          Civility is gradually disappearing from our culture. I lament its passing. Simply put, I miss manners.

          Even when our mother was a single parent and before she married our stepfather, my brother and I were expected to conduct ourselves properly. That is to say, we were to be “perfect little gentlemen.” I wasn’t quite sure what that phrase meant at first, but I knew it had to do with behaving in a way that was counter to a little boy’s rambunctious approach to living life!

          This all fell under the heading of “Good Manners.” Some of those expected behaviors we learned early on were: 1) Don’t interrupt adults when they are talking. 2) Speak clearly and distinctly. 3) When in the company of adults keep your voice down. 4) Address those older than you by saying, “Ma’am,” and “Sir.” 5) Tuck in your shirt. 6) Wash your hands before eating or preparing food. 7) Polish your shoes. 8) Stand up when a lady enters the room. 9) Do not wear a hat in the house (or generally indoors anywhere). 10) Seat ladies first at the dinner table. 11) When walking outside with a hat on and you encounter a lady, slightly raise your hat while nodding with a greeting. The list can go on and no doubt many of you could add many more examples.

          I’d like to focus on this matter of men wearing hats. True, we do not wear the hats of a hundred years ago when it was quite fashionable to be seen in public with a smart looking hat as you walked about your town. Women almost always wore a hat when venturing outside. These customs eventually petered out to the point that today hats are worn by women more for formal events, and men hardly wear them at all. The exception for men is the ubiquitous baseball cap. And the vast majority of golfers wear a cap of some sort. More and more women seem to be wearing baseball caps, too.

          I was curious about men and the practice of wearing a hat. Why, for instance, are men expected to remove their hats when entering a home or other building? Why do men remove their hats when speaking to a woman? Why does a woman not remove her hat in like manner when speaking to a man?

          You’re probably thinking that since I’ve retired I have too much time on my hands to be delving into such seemingly silly subjects. But, alas! Allow me to share my findings with you.

          In the days of chivalry with knights and damsels, such manners were forged into societies. We still have the remnants of these practices today. For instance, when two knights would greet each other, they would lift the right hand to raise the face shield of their helmet to make eye contact, and perhaps a smile of recognition. The right hand is also the hand used by most warriors in combat. So raising a weaponless right hand was a sign that the gesture was a friendly one. This greeting was carried over into “tipping the hat,” and in the military it became the salute.

          “When a gentleman ‘dons’ his hat to leave or ‘doffs’ his hat to a lady, his actions are being described by two British colloquialisms that come from contractions of the phrases ‘do on’ meaning ‘to do’, and the Middle English ‘doffen’, which became ‘don off’ meaning ‘to do off’! Hats are tipped, (or doffed) slightly lifting the hat off your forehead, when meeting a lady (remove your hat if you stop to talk), or to ‘say’ to anyone, male or female – thank you, excuse me, hello, goodbye, you’re welcome or how do you do.” (Hat Etiquette, by Andy Gilchrist, http://www.askandyaboutclothes.com/clothing/style-tips/hat-etiquette/.

          Tipping, or doffing your hat is a sign of politeness, a courtesy extended to others as a matter of respect. Today when two men make eye contact and do not personally know each other, it is common for both to make a slight nod of the head in the direction of the other.

          Women, on the other hand, do not engage in the donning and doffing of their hats because their head wear is usually much more complicated. The hat may be held in place by bobby pins, or hat pins, or hair combs. Further complicating the removal of the hat for the gentler sex is the whole business of the woman’s hair being disturbed in the removal process. So the woman is allowed to keep her hat in place.

          However, with the advent of the baseball cap, more women are finding it convenient to wear such headgear. But if you do so, ladies, remember this: When you are at an athletic event with a ball cap on and the time comes for the playing of the National Anthem, you are expected to remove your ball cap along with the men. Now there’s equality for you!

         I miss manners primarily because people behave better in public when they engage in such gestures of respect for others.

Think about it.

Character Does Matter

Roots in Ripon
11 January 2016
Chuck Roots
www.chuckroots.com

Character Does Matter

          It’s hard to not be aware that we are in an election year. The main stream media (MSM) is covering the various assortment of candidates in the same manner as vultures circling the rotting carcasses of dead and dying buffalo on the open plain. “What juicy little morsel might we find on this one, eh?” The scrutiny, also known as vetting, is in full swing and everyone is fair game with one caveat – If the MSM likes you and you are in step with their philosophical and political points of view, then you are declared sacrosanct.

          Some time back, probably three or four years, I wrote an article on the importance of character in our elected officials. I would like to revisit this topic in this article.

          You might recall the brouhaha during the 1992 presidential race involving the sordid affairs of one Bill Clinton. As the news reporters uncovered one woman after another who claimed to have had a relationship with Clinton, or was otherwise seduced by him, such degeneracy filled our TV screens nightly. It got to the point where the Democrat Party had to do something to tone this story down because their candidate, Bill Clinton, was looking bad. Two things happened: First, there was a pre-arranged interview with Bill & Hillary Clinton in which Hillary famously said to the interviewer who was pressing the matter of Bill’s blatant infidelities, “If it doesn’t bother me, why should it bother you?” That question-cum-challenge shut the door on further questioning. Had I been the interviewer I would not have let that go. Regardless of what you may think the state of the Clinton’s marriage in, no woman ever wants to be shamed by her husband’s indiscretions with other women. And certainly not on the international world stage which the MSM plays on.

Second, all the sycophants of the Democrat Party drank the cool-aid, parroting the new philosophy that what a person does in private doesn’t really matter and has no direct effect on their ability to govern. The new catch phrase being spoken by the leaders of the Democrat Party, pundits, and even the MSM became a mantra intoned by all – “Character doesn’t matter.” That was a stunner.

This was troubling for many reasons, but the primary reason it left many of us unsettled had to do with national security. A president who was dishonoring his marriage vows was to be considered a reprobate. Further, if he could be enticed to enter into a sexual liaison, then he was subject to blackmail by our nation’s enemies. He compromises his position of authority which has been entrusted to him by “We the People.” Add to that the matter that the president has the obligation through his office to protect the American people, and we’ve got a major problem.

As I was growing up it was strongly impressed upon us as kids that character was everything. If you lacked character then you were not a person to be trusted. I remember my folks saying things like, “Don’t ever lie to me, because if you do, then I’ll never know if you are speaking the truth.” Or this one, “When you give someone your word, you are bound to it and must keep your word.” Teachers in school taught these same values. These values were even put in front of us through radio and television. But virtue and morality in the film industry all began to crumble with the advent of the Film Rating System in 1968.

The Bible has much to say about a person’s character. The most notorious person mentioned in the Bible would be the man who intentionally betrayed Jesus, willingly turning him over to the authorities to be crucified. His name, of course, is Judas. Judas Iscariot. His lack of true character set in motion the arrest, trial, and crucifixion of Jesus. All for 30 pieces of silver! In today’s currency that’s about $500.00.

Unsavory characters are replete in the Bible. It is the result of the human condition known as a “sinful nature.” Jesus willingly went to the cross in order to offer you and me a new opportunity at life. A degraded or degenerate person can become a new person with an entirely new character once they’ve had a personal encounter with Jesus. Our sin nature is transformed by the cleansing power of the blood of Jesus.

Personally, I want elected officials and national leaders to be men and women of the highest character. We as Americans should accept nothing less. And for those in office (way too many, I fear) who have sacrificed their character on the altar of political correctness, and/or for the lust of power, then it’s time to send them packing!

 Might God grant us another stellar person of godly character like our founding father, George Washington? I would pray that it was so.

Love of Family

Roots in Ripon

4 January 2016

Chuck Roots

www.chuckroots.com

Love of Family

          Now that I’ve taken a couple of weeks off from writing Roots in Ripon, and with a New Year upon us, it’s time to get back to my weekly column. As you already know, or have surmised, my column, Roots in Ripon, is no longer being carried in the Ripon Record because the newspaper has closed shop.

          The timing was excellent since my reprise from writing came just before Christmas. It allowed me to focus on spending lots of time with family. It began with my brother, John, flying out to spend time with the West Coast Roots clan. He was here about ten days, so, with very cooperative weather, we managed to spend a lot of time on the golf course. Truth be told, we are both “golf junkies.” We played at my home course, Spring Creek, but we also were invited by our friend, Hank Harris, to play at his course in Turlock. We also got a round in at Ruby Hill which was recommended by the pro at Spring Creek. But the best round of the time John was here was the day he was flying home, leaving from San Jose. We made reservations at Wente Vineyards golf course in Livermore. Perfectly clear sunny day! The course was in terrific shape and we had a blast. We ended our time there by having dinner at the Wente Vineyards Restaurant.

          Golf aside, we enjoyed numerous gatherings with our girls and their families while John was here. We were all in a festive mood, having celebrated granddaughter Alyssa’s 8^th birthday on Thanksgiving with all the family gathered in our home, followed by Isaura’s birthday on December 6, and then John’s 72^nd birthday on December 13^th.

          Alyssa has been taking piano lessons for the past couple of years from Barbara Mohler. So to our surprise, our precocious little pianist had the hutzpah to ask the pastor is she could play Silent Night in the Christmas Eve service. He readily agreed.

          The church was full that night for the Christmas Eve service. Our aspiring piano prodigy seemed quite relaxed during the evening’s service. I was wondering if she’d get too nervous and bail out. I glanced over at her several times, but I saw nothing to cause me concern. The service had her playing Silent Night as the last song of the service which included the congregation participating in a candlelight ceremony singing all three verses.

          Alyssa sat on the piano bench and waited as the pastor finished his remarks about lighting the candles. Then she began playing without missing a note with robust voices from the congregation accompanying her. The candles were being lit throughout and then everyone stood to sing the final verse, but Alyssa never missed a beat or a note. You have no doubt figured out that I’m very proud of her.

          The best part in all of this is a note I discovered hanging from our refrigerator last week after Christmas. It was written on a sheet of paper from those note pads folks keep in their kitchens by the phone. The handwriting was clearly Alyssa’s. This is what it said: “Hello! My name is Alyssa! I love my family.”

          Well now, I’m an admitted softy – a veritable sentimentalist, if you will. That’s just my temperament. I teared up right away when I read this note, which then causes my throat to swell so that speech is impossible. There is no gift under heaven that could even begin to match this note, especially at Christmas time.

          Once again I am learning what it means to be blessed. I am surrounded by people who mean the world to me, whom I love intensely, and who love me in return. Such love enables me to better understand God’s love for me as it was gloriously demonstrated through his Son, Jesus. And for that I am eternally grateful.

          Thank you, Lord. You have blessed me beyond measure.

Remembering Pearl Harbor

Relaxing ashore in one of the many bungalows not far from the nested ships of the United States Navy at Pearl Harbor, sailors on this Sunday morning were luxuriating in the warm tropical environs of a paradise that would soon turn into a killing field. Planes were heard flying along the island coastline, raising little interest in the minds of the sailors who were enjoying liberty ashore.

This story was told to me about ten years ago by a couple of Pearl Harbor Survivor veterans when I was asked to speak to their group. They continued to recount the events of that day.

The planes flying by the bungalows along the beach sure looked like Jap Zeroes! But, then again, these sailors had seen the Marines paint their planes to look like the Zeroes with the big red “Meatball” on the sides of the fuselage and wings. And after all, Sunday was often just another day of the week when it came to military training. Yet it was a bit unnerving to see these planes looking so much like Japanese bombers. Standing on the bungalow’s lanai the sailors could clearly see the pilots of the aircraft, and, dang! they sure looked like Japanese! Waves of aircraft were filling the skies now, flying by, heading directly for the ships berthed at Pearl. In a matter of minutes the thunderous sounds of detonating bombs captured everyone’s attention. Alarm bells exploded in their heads. In their haste to throw on their uniforms and scramble into the car some of the men forgot their wallets containing their ID Cards. At this point, returning to base was paramount!

Pressing the accelerator of the car as far as they dared, they rolled up to the gate practically skidding to a stop for the sentry. The Marine guard, holding his M1 Garand, was unwilling to allow these sailors to pass without their IDs. And you can hardly blame the Marine. At this point he didn’t know who to trust. The sailors attempted to explain the haste which they were in, needing to return to their ships. It was obvious to all of them that something awful was happening down at the harbor. The Marine seemed unsure, recognizing that a crisis was brewing, yet wanting to obey his orders in not allowing any unlawful personnel to pass. Finally, exasperated, the sailor driving the car announced to the flummoxed Marine that they were going to drive onto the base and return to their ship. So if he was going to shoot them, then start shooting!

The car shot forward aiming for the harbor. No one dared to look back to see if the Marine was drawing a bead on them with his M1. The Marine stood with his rifle raised but did not fire. What they found when they arrived at the dock where their ship was tied up was utter devastation. Their ship was already sitting on the bottom of the harbor. Thus, World War Two began for the United States of America.

Another friend recalled this same event from a different perspective. Isaura and I met this elderly couple while I was stationed as a Navy chaplain from 1984-85 at Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton in Southern California. George and Mamie Tintori had long been regular attenders of the Mainside Chapel on the base. We soon developed a lasting friendship and spent many enjoyable times together. They became surrogate grandparents for our girls, Laura (5) and Jenny (2). What a wonderful godly couple they were! They were loosed from their earthly bonds quite some years ago.

But one story they shared was their indirect connection with Pearl Harbor. George had enlisted in the Navy in 1922. Working his way up through the ranks, he became a warrant officer, and later, a commissioned officer, retiring as a Lieutenant Commander. He was given orders to report to a destroyer, home based at the naval station in San Francisco. They were living in a hotel in the city while waiting for base housing to open up. So George says to Mamie one morning that his ship was going out on maneuvers for the weekend, but that he’d be back late Sunday and that she should plan to join him for dinner Sunday night. Well, it just so happened that the Sunday George was out to sea was December 7, 1941, “A day that will live in infamy,” as President Franklin D. Roosevelt so eloquently stated. What is often forgotten is that Germany declared war on the United States the next day.

The next time Mamie saw George was four years later when the war mercifully ended.

America was hit hard at Pearl Harbor. Our military was at a dangerously low number having been downsized by Congress following World War One. What emerged from the Japanese sneak attack on Pearl Harbor was a resolve by a unified nation to not only strike back at an enemy that had attacked us without provocation, but to reduce that nation and their people to the point where they could not hurt anyone again for a very long time. The same attitude was aimed at Germany.

The Greatest Generation rose to the occasion and successfully defeated two daunting enemies, once again securing our freedom and liberties.

I fear our current generation might be called on to engage in a global war against Muslim radicals and their despotic followers. As our fathers and grandfathers did in WWII, this generation will undoubtedly step up and win the day for America and all freedom loving peoples throughout the world, crushing those who would seek to destroy us.

God bless America!

With the closure of the Ripon Record this month, my column, Roots in Ripon, will still be available on the Internet. If you would like to receive my weekly column, please send an email to Roots66@verizon.net and I will send my articles to you as an email attachment. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing this column for the Ripon Record the past 13 years. Hope to reconnect with you by email! Blessings! Chuck Roots

Go Niners! Please?

When it comes to football, I follow the trials and tribulations of two NFL (National Football League) teams. Those two teams are: the New England Patriots of the AFC (American Football Conference) East; and the San Francisco 49ers of the NFC (National Football Conference) West.

At this point in the season, these two teams could hardly be more different. The Patriots are the reigning Super Bowl Champions, and they are undefeated this year with a 10-0 record. The 49ers, on the other hand, are a weak sister by comparison. They are posting a dismal record of 3-7 with a weak team that is in desperate need of a few wins just to put a good face on the season.

There is a very good and logical reason why I am a fan for two teams. First, both teams play in different conferences. Second, I was born and raised in New England, yet I’ve been living in California since the beginning of my senior year in high school, 1965. Third, I was impressed by the loyalty to the 49ers by my brothers-in-law, Tony and Joe, have been die-hard 49er fans since the 1970s when the Niners were the 98 pound weakling in the NFL.

The last football game I can remember attending was in 1971. I was in the Marines and home on leave for Christmas. I stopped by the Oakland Marine Corps Recruiting Office to say hi to my recruiter. I do not remember his name, but he was a Gunnery Sergeant. We chatted for a while, at which point he asked me what I was doing the coming Sunday. I said I’d probably be hanging out at my parent’s home in Alameda enjoying home-cooking and watching a football game or two with my step father. He said he needed another Marine to fill out a four-man colors detail for an Oakland Raiders game. I jumped on the opportunity immediately! I looked forward to this because I would be wearing my Marine uniform at an NFL game marching with three other Marines while presenting the colors (American flag and California State flag). I was to be one of the rifle bearers. There are two who flanked the two flag bearers. In carrying the rifle you are to present the manual of arms which every Marine is drilled in during boot camp. It was great fun! I got to see the game for free standing on the sidelines, and to see players who are icons of the sport: Daryle Lamonica, George Blanda, Fred Biletnikoff, Willie Brown, Ben Davidson, Gus and Jim Otto (not related), Art Shell, Ken Stabler, Gene Upshaw, Phil Villapiano, and Carl Weathers. You may know Carl Weathers better as the actor who played Apollo Creed in the movie series, Rocky. A career-ending injury caused him to look elsewhere to make a living. Good choice going to Hollywood!

My brother-in-law, Tony, was here for Thanksgiving and asked me if I’d be interested in attending the 49ers-Cardinals game on Sunday. Would I? You bet! So it’s off to the new Levi Stadium in Santa Clara tomorrow morning. It’s only been 44 years since I attended my last NFL game! If I wait another 44 years before going again I’ll be 111. I’m thinking that’s not going to work!

The happy crew that is going to the game besides me are: brothers-in-law Tony and Joe Cabral, daughter and son-in-law Jenny & Josh Sousa, and nephews Cameron and Matthew Cabral.

As much as I’d like to be optimistic about the chances of the Niners pulling out a win tomorrow, that’s simply not going to happen. The Arizona Cardinals are 8-2, winning their last seven games. One TV sports commentator made this remark when asked if the 49ers could pull off the upset. He just laughed! Eventually he said, “I suppose they could have a chance. Instead of winning by six touchdowns, the Cardinals will only win by four touchdowns. Sigh! Yet hope springs eternal.

In accepting going to the game I realized I would most likely not see the New England Patriots play on Sunday Night Football against the Denver Broncos. Well, at least I can record it and watch it when I get home Sunday night. Sure am looking forward to the Patriots extending their undefeated streak.

Even though a win by the Niners tomorrow is remote at best, I have always enjoyed rooting for the underdog. So, GO NINERS!