On the day of Robinson’s election earlier that month, Berktold is in West London. It is here that he sees the bold, three-inch headline in The Daily Telegraph: “Can Archbishop of Canterbury Hold Fracturing Anglican Communion Together?”

Berktold sighs. He knows instantly what the problem is: Robinson. His impending election has been dividing the worldwide Anglican Communion for months. “Man,” Berktold says quietly to himself, “I’m glad I’m over here.”

The smart, humble son of a Minnesota farmer, Berktold studied under renowned theologians at both the Episcopal Divinity and Harvard Divinity schools in Cambridge. Berktold is a think-it-through-ten-times kind of guy. At St. Mary’s, his parishioners and coworkers trust his counsel, but they have learned they have to wait for it. But this time, Berktold didn’t delay. He knew exactly what had to be done on the Robinson issue. Although he struggled with the naming of an openly gay, sexually active priest because of the division it caused, he knew he had to promote unity in his church.

It would be very easy to polarize the congregation on the matter. But he’d made that mistake once before, thirty years ago, when he drove away some of his most influential parishioners with his newly minted Ivy-league brashness. When he preached from the pulpit in support of ordaining women, he hadn’t listened to his parishioners or addressed their concerns. Now he knew better. The debate is never about the debate, he thinks. The debate is about growing comfortable with new ideas.

Across town, some of Berktold’s hard-earned and painful lessons of the past were being repeated. His friend, Rev. Jeremy Tyndall, stepped in front of his conservative Episcopal congregation on the first Sunday after Robinson’s election and said, “While some are delighted at the confirmation of Rev. Robinson, an openly gay man living with a long term partner, many others are feeling deep pain, including me.” Tyndall, in his native British accent, went on to say that God loves everyone, including those with a same-sex orientation, but that to him, Robinson’s promotion felt like a Trojan horse. The action by the national Episcopal Church says it’s not only comfortable with an openly-gay bishop, but hidden inside of the “horse” could be even greater liberties for gay men and lesbians such as gay marriage.

Tyndall’s congregation applauded. It was the first time they had done so in his years at the church. Then nearly 10 percent of them left. Another local Episcopal priest openly opposed Robinson’s promotion. He lost 20 families in a matter of months. The families went to other churches or simply quit attending church all together.
Robinson says he wants to be known as a great bishop, not the first gay one. But Robinson says he is also fighting patriarchy. He says it’s about “the end of straight white men making all the decisions.” Berktold isn’t sure of Robinson’s motives. He doesn’t know what to make of Robinson and feels he can’t judge him. He too has felt forbidden sexual stirrings, ones that drove him to break altogether with a church and its policies.

In 1968, Berktold was a fifth-year Catholic seminary student studying in Europe for the summer. But despite good grades and favor within the seminary, he was quietly considering leaving the Catholic Church. He’d spent his whole life dedicated to the cause and at age 22 was still a virgin, but the idealism of his teen years was wearing off. The policies of the Catholic Church were too rigid for him, and celibacy didn’t seem like a natural state. For the first time he was also starting to yearn for a family. And now, less than a year before he was due to enter the priesthood, the guilt and the pain he’d privately harbored were starting to tear him apart.

One afternoon he and a beautiful, dark-haired female exchange student head to the beach in Cape Sounion, southeast of Athens. Berktold steps onto the sand, removes his shirt and exposes his glaring-white skin to the scorching Greek sun. The woman, concerned that he’ll get burned, offers to put sunscreen on his back.

Berktold hesitates. He’s never felt a woman’s hands on his body. Will this intimacy mean something? But then, he reasons to himself, “Why not. I'm nothing but a eunuch to her.”

He looks up at the woman and says, “Yes, that would be great.”

The woman moves close to him, puts the sunscreen into her hand and begins to slowly massage large circles into his back. Berktold feels himself stirring. “Is she going this slowly on purpose?” he thinks. As she finishes, she smiles and then lies down next to him. They spend the afternoon napping and talking in the summer sun.

Nothing happened that afternoon – or ever – with the pretty student. But the day made Berktold realize once and for all that there was no reconciling his human longings with the celibate Catholic priesthood. There, along Aegean Sea, he knew in his heart he would find another religion.