Walk down a major historic downtown street in Grenoble and you will likely notice an open concave brick and mortar structure about 7 feet tall and 3 feet wide. Its pointy top and finished concrete at first invite an curious glance from the unaware tourist. I wonder what this could be?
One could imagine it a steam-punk style, sci-fi portal to another part of the city. Or its relatively ornate design might cause you to mistake it for a very old telephone booth. While you might not be too far off by associating it with a type of “call”, its very prominent public location belies its rather private purpose.
This puzzling piece of mottled masonry is called a pissoir (prounounced “peese-wahr”) and now I am sure you can guess what it is. Especially if you stared at it long enough to observe some male pedestrian on the sidewalk duck in and immediately strike a recognizable pose of relieving himself.
The fact that it would be a man is obvious due to the structure’s empty interior design that is large enough to accommodate one standing person. Which begs the question - no, not “Is there anything on the wall to read?” but rather, “Does the city think that only men have the need to respond to the call of nature?” The public roadside pissoir’s minimally hidden privacy, designed for dudes who have had a few too many drinks after work, is so representative of what is still alive and well in modern France - the vestiges of archaic male privilege and preference.
What is obvious by their design covered by green corrosion is that the pissoirs of Grenoble are quite old. In fact, they were first introduced to France in 1830. They often are used as a convenient place for the plastering of posters and handbills. At certain moments in the day, however, you may not want to take a second look at that advertisement that initially caught your eye. What does get my attention, though is that here in the 21st century, an unhygienic distasteful relic such as this endures. I guess to the urgent modern male of 2018 that may still be a great relief.
All of this is just another example that modern society is not the place where anyone is going to learn self-control, whether it is in the public excessive displays of road rage and racism, or debauchery and immodesty. But I am thankful that the place I learned self-control was in church.
My pastor-father was determined to teach his boys that a house of worship is a place of honoring God. He emphasized with words (and worse) that we were to learn to control our need to laugh, talk, run or even to smack our gum in the church meeting so that we would never detract attention of those around us from being focused exclusively on God. This included all trips to the restroom once the service started, no matter how urgent the need. In our little Pentecostal church, my shaking and rocking was a lot more desperation than inspiration. Speaking in tongues was a necessity because I needed all the supernatural power I could get to not wet my pants before the last amen. Let’s just say the fear of the rod and reproach after the meeting was greater than the urgency to go to the men’s room.
Church is still the place where we can learn self-control. Through the instruction of God’s word, the conviction of the Holy Spirit, the example and encouragement of the community of faith around us, we can find the secrets of how God helps sate our hungers, damper our drives, and gives the rest and relief found in His power rather than in obeying our every impulse or in search for immediate satisfaction of our urgent needs.
I can say today that I gained at least one thing from my upbringing, beside a bladder infection. I have learned that I can endure longer than my selfish desires tell me I can. I suppose this is why I am utterly amazed and more than a little annoyed at observing some indiscreet man fully on the highway shoulder or turned toward a public wall who just cannot seem to wait another minute. I have learned through experience, that you can endure longer than you think, and that if you stop telling yourself you can’t, you’ll find that you can. Yes, sir, you really can hold it. A little self-control makes it easier on everyone, instead of subjecting civilized eyes to rather uncivilized behavior.
I have no need for the pissoirs of Grenoble. But I still need the lessons first learned as a boy in God’s house.There are some things far more important than my immediate convenience. Whatever I feel I just have to say, just have to do or just have to possess, the truth in a #MeToo society is that we need more men of modesty and self control who have learned to just hold it.
