It is fitting that Bishop Gene Robinson spent much of his Easter enduring the wintry conditions of the Great North Woods of New Hampshire, performing his ministry to small but loyal congregations.For although he is one of the few bishops who could claim to be a household name across the world's Anglican communion, he has been all but frozen out by the head of his church, the Archbishop of Canterbury.
As the first bishop to speak openly about having a homosexual relationship, he has heard fellow Anglicans describe gays as "lower than beasts".
The Guardian spent the Easter weekend with Robinson as he battled the winds and blizzards on a 400-mile road trip around his US diocese. But the conditions were nothing compared with those he has encountered trying to make it to the Lambeth conference, the 10-yearly gathering of the world's Anglican bishops, which takes place in Canterbury, Kent, from July 16 to August 3.
Two weeks ago Robinson was told he would not be allowed to take part in the event - the only bishop out of 880 to be excluded. He will still go to Canterbury, but with no official status and the same access as a member of the public. Yet he will, inevitably, be one of its star attractions. Robinson will not go into detail, but says he has his own events planned, including one with award-winning actor and gay rights campaigner Sir Ian McKellen, who will perform a reading.
His official exclusion came as a blow to Robinson, who told a spring gathering of the US Episcopal church house of bishops that he felt abandoned by Williams. He wept during the address. "It was the hardest time I've had since my consecration," he said, driving along interstate 93. He suggested it was not his consecration or homosexuality that was tearing apart the Anglican communion, but a failure of the leadership.
"I don't know if it was Rowan's intention to divide the US house of bishops but he's done the very thing he was trying to avoid through his action or lack of action. It mystifies me that he has never commented on statements Akinola [the Archbishop of Nigeria] has made about homosexuality," he said.
Robinson has met Williams only once, although he has had three one-to-one encounters with the US Democratic presidential hopeful Barack Obama. For two years after he was elected, Robinson tried to meet the archbishop, who finally relented but would not receive Robinson at his official residence. "He wanted to meet in a secret location and I was not told where until after I got on the plane from the US."
Both men agreed to keep the contents of the meeting private and Robinson would only describe the atmosphere as cordial. "I felt sad for him. He was caught in a difficult situation and didn't know how to lead the church through it. But I don't think we need an archbishop in a role of leadership. We need an archbishop to symbolise unity," he said.
Before the summer, Robinson has scheduled a series of interviews to coincide with publication of his book, In the Eye of the Storm, and he will also appear in the US edition of GQ magazine.
"I am probably the only bishop to feature in a 10,000-word article. I was expecting Armani and George Clooney but they wanted me to wear my robes."
Back in Concord, in his office, is a box containing purple badges bearing a red heart and the slogan "Gene is here".
"Some people found out I wasn't getting an official invitation [to the Lambeth conference] and they were outraged. So they had these made up. I figure if you can't have fun with this you might as well stay home."
The small state of New Hampshire remains largely untouched by international disputes. "I wish people could see me for a bishop. It is tiring, I must say," he sighed, referring to the squabbling between rival camps. "On the one hand I would like to be known as Bishop Gene Robinson but it's an accident of history that I'm the first openly gay bishop in the Anglican communion. I've learned to live with that."
His parishioners are unfazed about receiving communion from one of the most controversial clerics in the world, with some admitting that they paid scant attention to what was happening in the Anglican communion.
At All Saints Church, Littleton, Heather McIntire, who had baked brownies for the Maundy Thursday supper, said her main concern was going to a church that was welcoming and friendly. "I happen to be divorced and some churches don't like that. In a small town, people see you on your own and rumours fly. This church is non-judgmental, it's inclusive, and I feel like I belong here," she said.
The following day in Colebrook, a depressed rural town with a population of several thousand, Robinson shared the pulpit with preachers from other denominations, including Methodist, Roman Catholic and Protestant. There were no rainbow flags or protesters to welcome him.
New Hampshire does not, as one resident pointed out, have a "big, gay liberal agenda". It has problems with unemployment, poverty and spousal abuse. Its people are mostly white and, in the more remote areas of the state, they are working class with traditional values.
Marlyn Neary, vicar of St Stephen's, left Roman Catholicism 40 years ago to join the Episcopal Church. She has five cousins who are gay or lesbian. "I didn't see a lot [of homosexuality] until after Gene was elected. I was very much on the fence as to what caused people to be homosexual. I became more aware after 2003 [when Robinson became bishop]. It's made my relationship with them a little better."
After the two-hour ecumenical service, Robinson headed for Howard's, a local restaurant, for a much-needed dessert stop before his next appointment in Plymouth, 96 miles away. Pointing at the slab of pie threatening to fall off his plate he said: "When I come to Colebrook I have to come to Howard's. Their pies are to die for. This would be my last supper."
In between mouthfuls of coconut cream pie, he told the story of how, when he was once getting ready for New Orleans mardi gras, he struggled to find the finishing touch to his Carmen Miranda outfit. He had the outsized fruit and the hat, all he lacked were hooped earrings. When he was in the bathroom, he noticed the rings on the shower curtain and decided to use those instead of jewellery.
It is an unconventional image, but Robinson delights in non-conformism. He carries his bishop's staff in a rifle case, has a police-radar detector attached to his dashboard, which also responds to microwave ovens, and holidays on the glamorous island of St Bart's in the Caribbean.
"I love this diocese, it's been my home since 1975. It will be 33 years on June 1. Here I can be the kind of bishop I want to be. It's small in size and in terms of population. In a huge diocese you can't be involved or intimate."
He preaches, he said, between four and seven times a week, often rising as early as 4am to pray, write sermons and check emails on his BlackBerry. It is the quietest time in his house, which he shares with his partner, Mark Andrews, who is more private than the beaming and chatty cleric. Robinson addresses him as sweetheart on the phone.
"He's adorable. He's my anchor, he's very steady. Being in the public eye is his worst nightmare. But he's wholly supportive. He comes with me when I visit parishes on a Sunday. I didn't think he would. But parishioners love him. He found a ministry in all of this too."
Robinson's homosexuality was not an issue when he was a priest. It was only after his election that talk of schism emerged. "Interestingly, the people who are unhappy with homosexuals are also the ones unhappy with women in the priesthood. My ordination was something around which conservatives could rally and bring about further division," he said.
Yesterday afternoon Robinson conducted a service at a men's prison in New Hampshire, leading convicted criminals in reflection and prayer.
Afterwards, he said he had received more than he gave while he was inside. "Practically every single one of the guys was telling me they were praying for me," he said. "One guy had read all the stuff about Lambeth and he was saying how hard it was for him to feel kindly about people who have excluded him and treated him in a way that makes him feel less than human. To have them praying for me and sharing being on the fringes is an extraordinary experience."
Visiting the prisons is one of his favourite parts of the job. "It feels closer to what Jesus told us to do," he said.
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