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Ace Paul: The passing of a Gentleman
The community lost a genuine and caring individual. His family lost a loving and nurturing father. The Armenian Church lost a man of faith, I lost a friend and a second dad. This was (and is) Ace Paul. He was 82 years young.
You don't find too many funerals for 80+ year-olds that are well attended, but the St. Andrew sanctuary was full to capacity with a wide variety of people, young and old, all of whom had been touch by Ace's life. It was a testament to a life lived in tune with God's will.
I had the privilege of meeting Ace Paul in 1982. He was one of the first people I met in the Santa Clara Valley. This was during the pre-Silicon Valley days, when a "hard drive" meant a trip across town in Ace's Ranchero. It was my first parish and he became one of my first friends at the church.
Ace taught by living. He was an example of humility and love. He immediately extended his hand to help with whatever was necessary to build the house of God. He was a contractor and certainly the challenge of building a church was before him, but his priorities were right on target. His first concern was to help build the real church - the House not made of stones, but with the love that God places in every human's heart.
We would go to church conventions and retreats together. He understood his life as one offered to serve others. It was in 1984 that we were sitting down in the patio of the old church - a converted house - that we pondered the idea of a new church for the community in Santa Clara Valley. On a napkin he began sketching the plans as we talked and described a building that would be a center for faith and education. It was shortly thereafter that we developed the plans and began the construction of the St. Andrew sanctuary. Ace was our church's contractor, but he would always give the credit to the Chief Architect, by simply pointing up to heaven and saying, "He's the One who's going to build this."
Sure, he was a builder, but the real things he built weren't made of wood and nails. You see, Ace was a builder of dreams. If you dreamt it, he could make it happen. After all, that’s what his life was all about. He was born in Reedley, California. He was the generation who was born in the immediate aftermath of the Genocide. His beginnings were humble – a humility which he never lost. He would tell of the hatred and discrimination he had to endure in California’s Central Valley – because of his Armenian ancestry. He was born on Independence Day and his parents named him “Azad” which means “freedom.” He learned his building skills quickly. He married his wife Lorraine and together they transformed their dream into a family of three beautiful children, Ben, Teri and Ron. When I met Ace, he had just become a grandfather for the first time. There wasn’t anything that fit Ace better than that title of Grandfather. It was probably the title with which he’d want to be remembered the most.
In 1992 we finished the building of St. Andrew Church. To this day, it is the newest built Armenian Church in the Western Hemisphere. He took a special pride in the building, because, as I said, he understood it to be the dwelling place of God. There wasn’t enough he could do to express his love and devotion to the One who had given him so much. This building which stands today as a monument of faith, was his expression of thanksgiving.
Ace’s home was always filled with love. His wife Lorraine is the most hospitable person you can meet. Her graciousness and self-sacrificing devotion knows no bound. Together, Ace and Lorraine opened their home to everyone who had a sincere love for our church. The first events to bring the church together were held in their home - their life became a real church and God blessed them with a lot of goodness.
In the Armenian community – as in all ethnic communities – people associate with those they share commonalities with. So you find Armenians from Iran hanging out with other Armenians from Iran. Or those from Beirut with others from Beirut… and so on. People don’t cross the line too much. But Ace did. At his funeral you had Armenians from Iraq, Iran, Lebanon, Sudan, Armenia and America all in one room, celebrating a man who found a common bond with each of them.
Ace was a gentle man. Don’t ever slur those two words together when you describe Ace. Sure, he was a gentleman, but even more, he was a gentle person, who knew the power of compassion. He was a ‘man’ in every sense of the word – upholding his dignity, honor and trustworthiness as virtues. He didn’t wear his faith on his sleeve. He didn’t need to. He was a living example of God’s love.
A few years back, he had a near death experience. Following an ambulance ride where his heart stopped and then resuscitated, he told me that he no longer feared death. He was a man who understood without a doubt the love God had for him. He knew that his salvation was through Christ Jesus. He truly and honestly believed the words of Christ, "I am the way, the truth and the life..." And so today, our sadness is only because we will miss. But in fact, we do know that he is in a better place where there is no pain, where there is no trouble. If anything, my prayer today, is not so much for him as it is for us - for those of us who remain here in this world, a world that is less one gentle soul.
Ace, the builder, built a dream – the dream of a generation. It was his parents’ dream – a people who only hoped and believed that God would never abandon them. In many ways, Ace did what God did. The Bible tells us that God took nothing and made something. That was Ace. He took nothing, and created something – a world that at his funeral came to say thank you.
I thank God for the opportunity to have known Ace and grow in his wise counsel. I thank Lorraine, Ben, Teri and Ron for sharing him with me an my family. I thank his grandchildren for sharing him with our children because our kids call him "Grandpa Ace" too. He will be missed by all of us. May God grant us all comfort.
Ace was Azad (freedom) and today he is truly free. Today, this ace pilot has earned his real wings.
-Fr. Vazken Movsesian
24 February 2005
Eulogy for a Grandfather
Here is a eulogy written by Ace's grandson, Ron Paul. it is touching in its sincerity and profoundness. It tells of a loving grandfather, and a giant of a man...
Today we are celebrating the life of my grandfather, Ace Paul. As I look out over the church, I know that each of us holds deeply cherished memories of our time with him and that right now we’re all experiencing a quiet sadness that accompanies the loss of someone we deeply love.
I could talk at great length of my own personal memories of him, and I know that my grandmother, his 3 kids, and each of his 6 grandchildren could write volumes about their depth of appreciation toward his love, generosity, patience, and unyielding kindness.
However, merely recounting these memories to you all is not what my grandfather wanted me to share with you today. Over two years ago, on April 3, 2002 to be exact, during one of our frequent conversations, my grandfather told me some things that he wanted expressed as gather to celebrate his life. As anyone who has interacted with my grandfather knows, he was a man of few words. Always observant and having tremendous wisdom and insight into life, he chose his words carefully. He was also a man of great faith who openly professed being a follower of Jesus Christ and was not afraid to share his love with others.
My grandfather did not view his life with despair and futility; he viewed his life as purposeful, meaningful, and he was impactful. His love was unconditional, and no matter how you were feeling, there was something deeply satisfying, almost soothing, about being in his presence.
He wanted me to emphasize only four points that he considered top priority in life. He not only said these things, he modeled them throughout his life.
1. Love your neighbor as you love yourself. He said it’s paramount.
2. Be in good graces with everyone, and give more to others than they ask for or expect. He gave his time and love generously, never holding back.
3. Forgive people quickly, and know that when you forgive, you are lessening your own burden.
4. Pray. Pray often. Ask God specifically for what you want. And wait for God to answer.
We know that he has left a legacy. Our hearts ache, yet we rejoice in all the good that he has brought to the world. Lives have been enhanced and touched in unimaginable ways because of him and we know that we can be comforted by a power great than any of us, spoken through the ages in Psalm 23: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for you are with me.”
Death does bring sorrow. Sorrow brings tears. Tears are a part of the grieving process. God never tells us “Don’t cry, Don’t grieve.” He says that we are not to grieve like those who have no hope. You see, my grandfather knows that we all have an answer beyond the grave. It is this hope that ultimately brings comfort.
One of my grandfather’s favorite scriptures was 1 Chronicles 4:10. He cited it often, and it is a reminder to all of us that God acts on our prayers. It reads, “Oh that you would bless me and enlarge my territory. Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain. And God granted the request.”