Holy Moses.
By Angharad.

ה לֹא-יִהְיֶה כְלִי-גֶבֶר עַל-אִשָּׁה, וְלֹא-יִלְבַּשׁ גֶּבֶר שִׂמְלַת אִשָּׁה: כִּי תוֹעֲבַת יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, כָּל-עֹשֵׂה אֵלֶּה. {פ}

5 A woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment; for whosoever doeth these things is an abomination unto the LORD thy God.
Deuteronomy 22.5 (Wiki)

The preacher thumped the lectern on the pulpit. He stamped and shouted and quoted Deuteronomy and Leviticus and all sorts of modern texts, “This is what happens if we let these people to live amongst us–these sodomites and transvestic perverts–they are all abominations in the eyes of God. They must be cast out from amongst us and from a righteous society.”

His ranting continued and half the congregation were entranced by his fire and brimstone approach and half were embarrassed or bored. This firebrand was the Rev. Harold Burkiss who replaced the rather liberal and laid back Rev. Tom Sloane, who had moved on to pastures new.

I don’t think the conservative minority who had far too much influence liked Tom. He was young–only about thirty two. He’d been a soldier–a lieutenant in the regular army–he’d seen the world and he was single. He had a good friend, John Collins, who used to come and stay with him several times a year. The conservatives wondered if either of them might be a little different, because neither were married nor seemed to be seen in the company of women very much, yet neither were seen as misogynists–getting on well with the women of the parish.

Queen’s Standing was a smallish town, about twenty thousand inhabitants, so when a local bar allowed one of their rooms to be used by a group of cross dressers for a monthly meeting–it soon got out on the grape vine.

The pub quite enjoyed their monthly visitors, they were clean and polite, paid in cash for two rooms and the adjoining toilets; they bought plenty of food and drinks and never left the place in a mess–they were good clients.

Tom Sloane had called by one evening to see for himself and was made welcome–he even invited those who were confirmed to come and take communion the next day–and he didn’t care what they wore as long as it was decent.

Two of the congregants the next day were of the cross-dressed variety, and although well turned out in nice clothing and well coiffured wigs, were obviously men in skirts. The conservatives went ballistic and leant on the churchwardens and other parish committee members to sack their priest.

During the stormy meeting, Tom defended himself by suggesting that his mission was to take the gospel to any and everyone and that Jesus worked amongst far less salubrious types than a couple of clean and presentable trannies–and who in his eyes were doing nothing wrong, just being individualistic.

His opponents threw every cliché they could find at him and finally law 22.5 from Deuteronomy–which were supposedly given to the Israelites by Moses prior to their entry into the Promised Land.

Tom responded that he was a practitioner of the New Testament not the Old, as he was Christian not Jewish. This sadly inflamed the situation and one of the senior churchwardens called for him to resign as a heretic.

“Mr Hassock, as far as I’m concerned, there are only two laws given to us by Jesus. As you appear to be ignorant of them, I’ll remind you: to love God, and to love our neighbour as ourselves.”

“I prefer an eye for an eye, Mr Sloane, and you fraternising with those creatures is despicable and an abomination in the eyes of God.”

“Because they were wearing women’s clothes?”

“Yes–the scriptures proscribe it.”

“I don’t know–you have no objections to me wearing a long dress every time I conduct a service.”

“You joke about holy vestments and how they confer the presence of God in you?”

“Mr Hassock, if you require special clothes for God to be with you, I’m wondering if you’re worshipping the right divinity?”

Hassock blew a fuse and stormed out of the meeting after demanding he resign before they sacked him. Tom looked horrified–wasn’t he just doing his job? If his vestments conferred upon him special status in the eyes of God, perhaps wearing a skirt did the same for the cross-dressers. Mrs Hassock, shrieked and followed her husband out of the meeting.

Tom realised the writing was on the wall, and he began to look for a position elsewhere–somewhere more challenging theologically and less so socially. Tom wasn’t gay, although he knew tongues wagged and his friendship with John made them waggled more freely, neither of them were gay. They were united by a bond of tragedy which meant they’d always be friends.

They knew each other in university and it was obvious that Tom was going to head for the church, despite being a very able student of sociology, he decided he could do more good as a priest. John was a psychologist who was doing quite well for himself at the Maudsley Hospital in London–working mainly with survivors of abuse, who’d gone on to develop other mental conditions. He came to Tom to share their friendship and their sadness and to relax for a few days before he went back to his very stressful job.

Their shared sadness was over the deaths of their girlfriends, who being inseparable friends died together in a bus crash in Germany five years before. The loss of his precious Moira caused Tom to have an enormous crisis of confidence in his faith and it had taken an interview with the Archbishop of Canterbury himself to help him see the way to recovery. While John had sunk into a depression of grief which took him months to claw his way back to normal. John’s humanism had helped but he kept Tom at arm’s length–how could some imaginary deity help–if he existed how could he let these things happen? Tom felt he had answers, but not ones which met John’s needs or beliefs. They stayed apart for a year before one day meeting on the anniversary of the accident and realising that their friendship was too valuable to risk, they made it up and had seen each other every year since.

“So they’re really out to get you for allowing a couple of trannies to come to church? How pathetic can you get? Good job they never go to places like Broadmoor where the local chaplain feels he’s achieved something if he can get paedophiles and sex killers to attend his services.”

“Perhaps that would be less challenging than here–they’re all recognised as homicidal maniacs–here no such diagnosis has been made, though I reckon it’s probably just as high.”

Tom moved on–driven out by the conservative communicants and their supporters–they didn’t need his sort in this parish. The next vicar they had would be more to their liking, sort out these layabouts and poofters. They tried to intimidate the landlord of the local pub by boycotting him–but he was not impressed and the meeting with churchwarden Hassock was colourful to say the least.

Mr Hassock had called in the bar and asked to speak to Bob Linus the owner and landlord. “Bob, we’re a bit worried that having these weirdos in your premises might give the wrong idea to people.”

“Wrong idea?”

“You know, they might think you’re a bit–you know,” he raised his eyebrows.

“I think I’d know if my husband was gay or a cross dresser don’t you, Mr Hassock. Mind you, I think he might look quite fetching in a cocktail dress–you I think, Mr Hassock would be more the gold lame sort of look.” She laughed as she embarrassed the self righteous churchwarden and even Bob gave a little chuckle.

“What colour cocktail frock, my love?” he called after her.

“Oh black, definitely, though you’d have to shave yer beard off.” She laughed loudly and went out into the kitchen.

“Mr Hassock, I dunno what your problem is with these tranny types but they behave themselves, pay on the button and are no trouble whatsoever.”

“I think you might need to consider your license in future, Bob.”

“On what grounds?”

“Keeping a disorderly house.”

“You’d better get some bloody good evidence because if I finds out you tried to end my license, I’ll sue you for every penny you and that ugly bloody wife of yours have got, now piss off out of my pub–you’re banned until I say otherwise.”

“You can’t do that?”

“Try me.”

“On what grounds?”

“For being a total arsehole–for starters–now piss off.”

The next week the tranny club meeting was welcomed as always and Bob had some special news for them. “Dunno how many of you would be interested, but a friend of mine manages a nice sized hotel in Bournemouth–complete with ballroom and so on–he could possibly run weekends for you if enough were interested.”

They were and they did.

The Rev Burkiss replaced Tom Sloane and while he was at the doctor’s one morning having his check up–he was a cancer survivor–he asked Dr Taylor a question. “What makes men want to dress up like women?”

“Why, does this concern you personally?”

“Good grief no, I’m no cross dressing queer.”

“I hate to disabuse you, but if I remember correctly, most of them aren’t either. Statistically, most adult male cross dressers are heterosexual and many are married.”

“So why do they do it?”

“Why does anyone do anything–they enjoy it, some find it an antidote to being men all the time; some are expressing a feminine side; some are possibly frustrated women. It’s harmless and non-contagious.”

“What d’you think about the local public house encouraging them?”

“If it gives them somewhere safe to indulge their hobby why not–would you complain if a group of model train enthusiasts used the building?”

“They wouldn’t be transgressing holy laws.”

“I wasn’t aware a group of men in skirts were either.”

“According to the Book of Deuteronomy, it’s an abomination in the eyes of the Lord for a man to wear the clothing of a female and vice versa.”

“What’s that Mosaic law?”

“Yes, given to Moses by the Lord God himself.”

“I see, so you don’t consider that laws which may be thousands of years old might be inappropriate for today’s society?”

“Absolutely not.”

“How’s the implant?”

“It’s fine–I feel quite healthy now.”

“Good–coming back to Deuteronomy, would you consider your church to be a house of God?”

“I would.”

“Hmmm, I thought so. I think you need to read Deuteronomy again.”

“And why is that?”

“I think there might be a line about an incomplete man being unable to enter the house of God.”

The priest swallowed hard and went very red. “I don’t remember that.”

“It doesn’t mention bilateral orchidectomy as such but it uses terms which are quite transferrable.”

“Such as?” As those who scan texts to find only those things which support their arguments find out–you need to read the small print as well.

“Well, let’s see, shall we?” ב לֹא-יָבֹא פְצוּעַ-דַּכָּא וּכְרוּת שָׁפְכָה, בִּקְהַל יְהוָה. {ס}
The doctor called up the internet on his computer. “Do you not read Hebrew?”

“I’m a bit rusty,” lied the embarrassed priest.

“Oh, okay–it means that any man who is injured or damaged down below, cannot be a member of the congregation and thus may not be allowed to enter the House of God.”

“It does?”

“I’m afraid so. Mind you, I probably won’t mention it to anyone because it’s inappropriate these days–I mean in those days men would have died from testicular cancer, especially in both testes. Come to think of it, most of Deuteronomy is inappropriate for today’s society, don’t you think?”

“I think you may be right, doctor.”

“There we are, another good report, Mr Burkiss, see you in a month or so for your shots–do take care and always read the small print.”

“Yes, oh and thank you, Dr Taylor.”

“Always happy to oblige.” The priest left and Taylor picked up the phone–“Bob, put me down for a dinner tonight will you–oh and you owe me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve rid you of that meddlesome priest, to coin a phrase.”

“Beckett?”

“Good lord no, it’s Eliot.”