There’s all kinds of pain at St. Mary’s Episcopal Church in Eugene, Oregon. Rev. Ted Berktold doesn’t need a tearful 75-year-old woman in his cluttered, book-laden office to tell him that. “This is not personal, but the Episcopal Church is no longer my church,” she says. “My church is leaving me,” says another elderly congregant to a member of the church staff. Berktold hasn’t seen this much turmoil in church since he set off his old Minnesota congregation on a Sunday morning in 1972 by wearing sandals to the pulpit and openly advocating women for the priesthood.

Berktold was out of the country vacationing in August 2003 when he heard the news of Rev. Gene Robinson’s promotion to the powerful position of bishop of New Hampshire. This one was different, he thought: an openly gay and sexually active priest can be voted out by a church’s vestry, but a bishop is nearly untouchable. By the time 57-year-old Berktold flew back home to his Oregon church, the impact was rippling through the parish. Two people were leaving, and more than thirty others were speaking up or threatening to leave. Berktold had no real idea how many others were questioning their future at St. Mary’s.

Berktold knew that the tempest brewing in his church was about more than just Robinson and the idea of a gay bishop. America’s latest civil rights battle had just walked through his front door. In the 1960’s, he watched the church fracture over the issue of equal rights for people of color. In the 1970’s, women’s rights and the ordaining of women caused deep divides that still linger today. Now the issue of gay rights – and in particular gay rights for clergy – was looming. The issue was so explosive that the powerful Archbishop Peter Akinola of Nigeria was threatening to divide the entire Anglican Communion, the worldwide overseer of the Episcopal faith.

At the heart of the debate for many was the idea that ordaining a gay bishop was akin to ordaining sin as a lifestyle; the Bible denounces homosexuality at seven different points depending on how it is read. Many within the U.S. Episcopal Church were not comfortable walking away from scripture and church conventions, much less their personal views on what constitutes proper sexual behavior.

Berktold was aware of the issues, and he also knew he couldn’t solve them. All he wanted to do was figure out a way to save his church and ease as much pain as possible.

On a warm, still August morning, parishioners a St. Mary’s sit silently in dark wooden pews. Rays of sunlight pour through the church’s red, blue and yellow stained glass windows. Berktold rises from his seat in the sanctuary at the head of the church and walks up to the pulpit to deliver his first sermon since his return home. He knows he is going to have to address the issue of Robinson, and he knows he has to do it carefully. He has his own opinions on the matter and believes that the emergence of someone like Robinson was inevitable within the church and that his promotion was a natural part of the church’s evolution. However, he also knows his own role is more pastoral than political, and he doesn’t want to lose parishioners because of his views. What he loves about his church is its inclusiveness, tolerance and diversity, and he isn’t about to upset the balance.

“People don’t think alike,” he says to his parishioners in a slow, measured voice from the front of the church. Above him, the ceiling in the shape of an inverted boat hull symbolizes the ship of faith. “The disciples were no different. Jesus didn’t choose twelve people who thought exactly alike, who always agreed with him. We like an idealized image of the early church as a group with no differences, an image that makes us feel guilty when we disagree among ourselves and with other Christian groups. But the disciples were as diverse as they could be.”

At the end of a sermon, there’s an unusual stillness in the air, something more than the usual contemplative silence. Many of the parishioners are confused: Those most angered by the election of the gay bishop expected condemnation from the pulpit and didn’t get it; those looking for a strong affirmation of the choice were also disappointed. Afterward, in the hallway, some people wonder whether the church is for Robinson or against him.