Who is the Episcolic? Is she an Episcopalian? Is she a Catholic? Does the Episcolic even know?
Turns out, both churches claim me, but it took me something absurd like 10 years to figure that out. In the interim, I spent a lot of time contemplating and anguishing and arguing and attending church services–on both sides of the Tiber–in secret. The focus of my spiritual life was in trying to find an answer to the question of which of these two nearly identical Christian sects I should ally myself with.
I won’t pretend this inner turmoil has vanished, nor that I have a firm grasp on my own best religious label. That’s why I’m the Episcolic. Never just one or the other.
I’m also the kind of person who scrutinizes everything in search of hidden meanings and symbols. Sometimes this is valuable; sometimes it is crazy. But one “coincidence” that stood out to me at the age of 17 seems to have contained wisdom I can apply to this tangled journey of mine. As I sat in 11th-grade physics class, pondering whether I should be an Episcopalian or a Catholic (you thought I would be pondering physics?), I noticed something: a handful of my classmates who I knew to be Catholic were wearing blue, and a handful I knew to be Episcopalian were wearing red. I thought, that’s funny; what color am I wearing? Then I looked down and saw that I was wearing red and blue plaid.
Not one or the other. Not purple. Both, woven together inextricably.