Reading a dodgy lesson in the Garrison Church.

My churchgoing was done at the main GHQ Garrison Church -- St George’s, Tanglin.
St George’s was the centre of my world in Singapore. Before I joined the army I’d gone to church at home and done the churchy things that young people did then -- sung in the choir, taught Sunday School and served on the Youth Club Committee. So St George’s was a blessed (in every sense) continuation of civilian life, at least for a few hours distributed through the week.
Except, of course, that it wasn’t really a civilian place. The Army is the Army. The Chaplain, a nice enough chap, was an officer, with an officer’s rank badges, so there was always some distance in the relationship. It would have been unthinkable to call him by his Christian name, for example.
Then, although I sang in the choir seated democratically (at least in the eyes of the Lord) beside a full colonel, you could never get away from the fact that as garrison church of a major headquarters St George’s could be a pretty formal place. On Sunday mornings, generals and brigadiers sat on the front row with their ladies.
I was always aware of this when read the lesson, which I did quite frequently at short notice when someone didn’t turn up. After all, I was in the choir within easy reach, and the Chaplain knew that I was good at sight reading the Bible
Mind you, it was a bit intimidating to stand at the lectern, fixed by the stony gaze of the top brass of both sexes.
“I say!” I always imagined them thinking, “This chap’s an ordinary soldier – a private for God’s sake! With an oiky Yorkshire accent! And bloody acne! And he’s reading the sacred word of God! It’s probably illegal! And we’re having to listen. Must have a quiet word with the Chaplain General!”
It was in those circumstances that I drew, one Sunday, the shortest of all possible straws.
You see there’s this passage in the Bible – in the Second Book of Kings actually -- that goes like this,
“And thou shalt smite the house of Ahab thy master, that I may
avenge the blood of my servants the prophets, and the blood of all
the servants of the Lord, at the hand of Jezebel. “
So far so good. No tricks there. But then it continues –
“For the whole house of Ahab shall perish: and I will cut off from Ahab him that pisseth against the wall, and him that is shut up and left in Israel.”
Now as usual, I didn’t have time to read the lesson through ahead of time. Normally that didn’t worry me, for I was quite adept at reading the immediate words on autopilot while my eye looked ahead to see what was coming.
And so suddenly, there it was, three four lines further on down the page, the dreaded word “pisseth”.
I couldn’t believe it. I slowed down a bit and glanced ahead again. Maybe I was mistaken. Perhaps it actually said “passeth” or “putteth” or something. Surely it was just my coarse mind, seeing what it wanted to see?
But no, as my voice droned automatically on, the word came reeling in, nearer and nearer, and, yes, it really did say, “pisseth”. Not only that, but it became apparent that the whole phrase was “pisseth against the wall!”
What the…! Here I was, faced with the General Officer Commanding, Far East Land Forces, the Brigadier who was Chief Signal Officer, two full colonels, and a motley crew of primped and dewy cheeked lieutenants acting as ADCs and various kinds of acolyte. And that’s not to mention the fragrant be-hatted ladies. And here was I, a bleeding Signalman about to describe an act usually carried out by drunken soldiers on a Saturday night. “Pisseth against the wall,” indeed!
My mind raced. Maybe I could change it? But into what? What were my chances of dredging up a meaningful word, in the space of five seconds, which was all that was left, while half of my brain was busy with the current line? In the end, I just went for it. “If it’s in the Bible it must be OK” I though.
So, I read it boldly, with lots of emphasis. After all, if you glance at the passage you’ll see that it calls for something of a kick on the key phrase. It’s also true – and I suggest you try this, taking care about where you are at the time – that the phrase, “Pisseth against the wall,” is quite difficult to say. It’s a bit of a tongue twister, and invites a slow, deliberate and emphatic approach. So although I didn’t actually bang my fist on the word “pisseth”, I have to say I came pretty close.
I said the sentence, and paused. As its echoes died away, I looked in a challenging way over the lectern at the row of top brass. They stared glassily back. Not one of them moved a muscle, except for the General, whose ears waggled a bit, much as my dad’s used to do when he was making me laugh in my cot. The General’s motivation was different, though.
I guess that underneath the impassiveness they were having one of two reactions. They were thinking, either, like me, “It’s in the Bible after all,” Or they had decided
“The bastard! He’s made that up! He’s done it for a bet. Bloody ignorant squaddy. He’s probably drunk. I’ll get the Chaplain to arrest him at the end of the service.”
As I sat in my pew through the sermon, I did genuinely wonder, fleetingly, whether the Chaplain would arrest me. Army Chaplains after all, are commissioned officers. People like me called them “Sir”, and saluted. They weren’t usually your friendly vicar types in those days.
I don’t think I entertained the thought for long. After a bit of consideration, I decided that everyone would be just too embarrassed to do anything other than just forget about it.
In that, I was wrong. The Chaplain came up to me in the choir vestry afterwards and smilingly pointed out that the Church of England – which thinks of everything – has standard substitutions for the Bible’s naughty bits, which make them suitable to be read aloud in the prim and proper surroundings of an English church. He acknowledged that it was his fault for not telling me this and giving me the alternative word. What it was I cannot now remember – “standeth” perhaps, or something equally bland and utterly meaningless.