The Other Life of an Episcopal Bishop

Bishop Moore, of the Episcopal Church was gay.

“About—”

“About your family. About his life. We missed our plane to Patmos, and we had to spend the night on Samos, another island. Something about the missed connection freed Paul, and we really talked that night. It was a beautiful night, we sat outside, we ate fish.” I could hear Andrew breathing. I could imagine this man holding on to my father’s hand with the tenderness with which he was staying on the telephone, waiting. The silence opened, my headache throbbed. All over the floor was the crumpled newspaper.

“Did he talk to you about his sexual life?” Two men in Greece, a beautiful night.

“I was his sexual life,” Andrew said.

“You were?” There was a silence and then we both began to laugh.

“For a long time.”

“I am so happy he had someone like you,” I managed to say.

“Of course, there were other men,” he said.

I asked him whether there was any significance to the table that my father had left him in his will.

“Only that it was next to the bed!” he said. “Your father had a sense of humor.” That quiet laugh again.

When, oh when, can we live as we love? It's not hard to see that this world is large enough for more wonders of intimacy than are allowed by foolish old conventions.