Published May 25, 2017
"Man of Sorrows"
We tend to use prayer as a last resort, but God wants it to be our first line of defense. We pray when there's nothing else we can do, but God wants us to pray before we do anything at all.
Most of us would prefer, however, to spend our time doing something that will get immediate results. We don't want to wait for God to resolve matters in His good time because His idea of 'good time' is seldom in sync with ours.
~ Oswald Chambers
Everyone coped with Shiro's disappearance in a different way.
Keith, Pidge, Coran, and Allura had all experienced loss before. In a way, losing Shiro—even with the possibility that he might still be alive somewhere—only increased and exacerbated their past pain. But they also knew how to compartmentalize their emotions and even channel their grief through their work.
For Hunk and Lance, losing a close friend or family member was a new experience. They did not know how to deal with it. They missed Shiro himself, and they mourned how Shiro's absence shifted the entire team's dynamic. They did not feel like a family anymore, and they did not know how to comfort each other, except with unoriginal, unconvincing platitudes.
Keith took his introversion to a new level, except to confer about their next move against Zarkon.
Pidge buried herself in research and experiments, using whatever technology and data she could get her hands on to search for Shiro.
Hunk distracted himself by cooking, making sure everyone continued to eat well, though his own eating habits became erratic. Sometimes he stress-ate, and at some meals, he had no appetite at all, something that had not happened in all the time Lance knew him.
Lance made some jokes out of habit, half trying to cheer himself, half trying to encourage the team. But even he felt weighed down with sadness and anxiety. Worse, he had no special skill set or area of expertise that could help in the search for Shiro.
The only thing he could think of, that he could do to help, was pray. But just a mental "God, let Shiro be all right" seemed too fleeting. It was fine for moments of chaos when there was no time for formality, but he had time now, when they were between battles and missions.
He had the rosary made out of Allura's old jewelry. He had only used it a few times since making it. Most days, he simply carried it around like a talisman, a badge that could be used to identify him as a member of one of Earth's largest religious communities. He worried it between his fingers the same way he fiddled with the zipper on his jacket at idle moments.
If there was ever a time to pray—with sincerity, not just desperate instinct or wishful thinking—now was the time.
Once he made up his mind, Lance wondered where to go, which direction to face, what to look at or envision. On Earth, Catholic Christians kept statues, and Eastern Orthodox Christians used icons, to help them picture the saints or Jesus, the visible Image of the unseen God. Picturing the Father and Holy Spirit was harder; in art they were sometimes depicted as an old man and a dove, but those were only symbols. Some people tried to imagine infinity or Heaven or omniscience, but studying and traveling through outer space had diminished the power of this trick for Lance. He could go to one of the observation decks to get a view of space, but he wanted to be alone and pray out loud, to help him focus. So he settled for the privacy of his bedroom, after everyone had turned in for the night.
Lance knelt on the floor and took out his rosary. He was halfway through the Sign of the Cross when he realized he was barely thinking about the words he was saying, or the Person—well, three People—he was addressing, since the words and gesture were so routine. In fact, he had never thought much about it before. It actually sounded kind of like a battle cry—maybe that was why people sometimes made the gesture before doing something dangerous. That was a cool thought.
Lance took a breath and started over, focusing on each Name, trying to visualize, or at least conceptualize, each member of the Trinity. Then he folded his hands and tried to form a coherent prayer.
"God … sorry it's been a while. You know how busy we've been … what a crazy time we're having. Um … thanks for everything that's worked out for us. There were a lot of times when I thought we'd fail or die, but we always came out alive … I figure a lot of that must've been Your doing. Like the timing of Coran getting that virus, when we actually needed a lubricant … no one can take credit for that, besides You. So, thanks … for everything." It seemed inadequate, but then again, no amount of thanks or praise could measure up to the (probably infinite) amount God deserved, so a little was probably no better or worse than a lot.
"We have lost some allies, though … Ulaz, Thace, Antok … even King Alfor's AI. Plus Allura and Coran are still getting over the fact that all their friends and family and countrymen are dead … and now Shiro's gone, and that's really the worst, because without him … we just don't know what to do. I mean, Allura takes charge most of the time, but Shiro was the one who, you know, directed us, delegated jobs … Keith's trying to fill his shoes, but even he knows that it's not the same." Lance twisted two beads of the rosary between his thumbs and index fingers.
"The thing is, even though we've got this powerful robot and castle-ship, in the grand scheme of things … there's so much we can't control. Heck, even Voltron is a speck of dust compared to everything You juggle. You are the real defender of the universe." That was a humbling realization.
"I know You've got a plan, and I believe things will work out in the end, in terms of the fate of the universe … I mean, every bad period in history ends eventually … but the specifics are … it's just … people still die, and we've learned that some worlds do end, which kind of turns the whole idea of You protecting our world on its head." Lance felt somewhat spiteful as he said this, but plenty of prophets and apostles had been spiteful toward God, and He still listened to them.
He took a breath and tried to regain his composure and return to his main point. "Anyway … I don't know what Your plan for Shiro is, but if You could … I mean, I know You can, but if You will … just … let him be okay. And if he's okay, if You could bring him back to us … if not to lead us, just to let us know he's okay … that would make everything a lot more bearable, which would be good considering how hard our job is."
Lance bowed his head, trying to summon feelings of contrition, the way he did whenever he was forced to go to Confession, yet willing them to be genuine, not forced. "I know I don't really deserve to be heard … I've never paid You much attention, besides when someone made me, or when I thought I was going to die. I know you're not supposed to be a last resort, and it's lame of me to come crawling to you only when I want or need something. But if You hear me out about this one thing, I'll do better. I'll follow the Commandments. I'll stop making fun of Keith. I'll drop the playboy act. I'll do good deeds without seeking glory. I'll pray every day, and if we make it back to Earth, I'll go to Confession and Mass when I'm supposed to—and I won't just go through the motions of all the rituals. I'll be sincere about it. And I'll study the Bible and Catechism so I'll actually know what I'm doing." Lance wondered if this was a kind of covenant, like the agreements God made with so many generations of His people in ancient times. Lance would not know if the offer had been accepted until he learned Shiro's fate. Even then, he would not know if God had accepted or rejected the bargain, or had gone ahead with the plan He had had all along.
Unable to think of anything else original, Lance decided to begin the meditation. He looked at the flower-shaped beads and tried to imagine that they were real flowers, that he was offering a wreath to the Virgin Mary. He remembered some church ceremonies that involved placing crowns of flowers on their statues of Mary, like dressing up a doll. Oddly, Lance didn't think any of those crowns had been made of roses, as the rosary was supposed to represent. He supposed the thorns would have made such a crown dangerous to assemble …
Lance's mouth almost dropped open with surprise and realization. A crown of roses. A crown of thorns. Like Jesus wore.
If the prayers were like roses, did they hurt Mary? Or did the rose symbolize pain she already felt? Either way, it seemed to suggest that she was not detached from people's suffering. She had felt it keenly on Earth, and probably felt it, or at least identified with it, as she watched over the Church now. Wasn't that how it worked for Jesus? Wasn't that the point of His Incarnation?
Lance felt like he had hit on something, a discovery that had actually been in plain sight, whose significance was great but which he did not understand. Then he realized his mind had wandered again. He knew that if God was omniscient He would hear these prayers no matter what, but Lance wanted to actually mean it; he was pretty sure effort counted. He would have to focus.
Having prayed from his heart, in his own words, Lance now began to recite the words that generations of Catholics had prayed for centuries. He alternated between English, Spanish, and Latin, unsure which language made him feel closer or more connected to his audience.
He tried to pray each decade with a specific intention in mind. At the end of each Hail Mary, after "pray for us sinners," he substituted the words "now and at the hour of our death" with his own petitions. He started out thinking he would dedicate the entire rosary to Shiro, but it seemed a little single-minded to pray only for him, when there were so many other people that also needed God's help and the saints' advocacy. So Lance prayed one decade for Shiro, that he would be safe and eventually found; one for the Holts, that they would be reunited; one for Team Voltron, that they would defeat Zarkon; one for all the planets the Galra had conquered, that they would be liberated; and for the people on Earth, who were still in the dark about the intergalactic war happening throughout the universe.
In closing, Lance named every saint and angel he could think of, to ask for their intercession on behalf of all the people he had prayed for. He appealed especially to Michael, the Archangel, defender in battle; Anthony, patron of lost things; Dominic, patron of astronomers; and Joseph of Cupertino, patron of aviators and astronauts. He even dared to petition his ancestors, the Alteans, and famous Catholic scientists, people he couldn't be certain were in Heaven, and therefore might not be capable of hearing or answering prayers.
He struggled to remember the words of the closing prayers. "To you we cry, poor banished children of Eve; to you we send up our sighs, mourning, and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn, then, most gracious advocate, your eyes of mercy on us, and after our exile, show us the blessed fruit of your womb, Jesus." Those words—banished, mourning, exile—held new weight when Lance considered where he was and everything he and his friends had lost.
The last prayer was somewhat self-conscious, referring to the rosary itself and the act of meditating upon its mysteries, that the person who did so "may imitate what they contain, and obtain what they promise." Lance had never stopped to think about what that meant. The Mysteries were milestones in the lives of Mary and Jesus. It would make sense to try to imitate their actions. But what did they promise? Each one was different, and he would need a Bible—and probably some kind of commentary—to understand each episode's implications.
Lance sighed. He was over-thinking it again. He wasn't good at this, there was no denying it. But he was making an effort, and that probably mattered more than anything else in this communication. At some point, he had to simply entrust the situation to God. With that thought, Lance concluded the meditation with the Sign of the Cross.
As he stood and stretched, Lance reflected that this was the first time he had ever prayed out of genuine, desperate need. It was the most emotionally exhausting faith-related experience in his life thus far.
It was probably also the first time he ever had to really trust God for anything. That was harder than he had always imagined it to be. It was easy to believe when you saw how strongly other people believed. Here, he was the only one who believed all that the Catholic Church taught.
He remembered one of his Sunday School teachers explaining what it meant to belong to the Catholic Church. "'Catholic' means 'universal.' That means the Church is spread through the whole world, but still united as one Body of Christ." Lance now wondered if "the world" meant just Earth, or the whole universe. Once the people of Earth learned about alien life, theologians and religious leaders would probably have to change a lot of terminology and teaching techniques.
Fingering the rosary under his pillow, he tried to convince himself, and take comfort in the belief, that he was not alone. He was still connected by prayer to his family on Earth, to all practicing Catholics, to all the saints who had lived on Earth and were now praying for him in Heaven. God was there, even when Lance neglected Him.
He added a postscript to his prayers: "Thanks for listening."
Author's Note: This chapter is named after a hymn written by a personal friend of mine, JMD Myers, a dedicated Christian and talented singer, composer, actress, and writer. You can listen to her music on YouTube, including an instrumental version of "Man of Sorrows," though its lyrics make it much more poignant.