Posted February 27, 2017

"I'll Try"


Now we see only a dim likeness of things. It is as if we were seeing them in a mirror. But someday we will see clearly. We will see face to face. What I know now is not complete. But someday I will know completely, just as God knows me completely. ~ 1 Corinthians 13:12


It was not until Pidge decided to stay with the Alteans and paladins of Voltron that she finally examined the digitized Bible her mother had given her. During her time at the Garrison and on Arus, she had been too busy to bother with it. Every waking moment was dedicated to her search. Even after she committed to helping this team, she spent most of her free time collecting and synthesizing data to help them in their fight against the Galra. But now that she was resigning herself to a longer separation from her family, she welcomed the chance to do something they had enjoyed and wanted her to do. She had never harbored the same level of interest in theology or literature, but reading the words they had treasured and shared made her feel closer to them.

Pidge wondered if her father still felt keen on the idea of an omnipotent, benevolent god when he had lost so much and was suffering so greatly. She wondered if he still held the Bible in such high regard, whether its stories and instructions seemed more or less relevant than they had before his capture. He could probably identify more with the ancient Jews, who had suffered periods of enslavement and exile and watched the destruction of their home at various times in their history.

After memorizing her father's favorite verses, Pidge opened the folder and skimmed through the various books. She was surprised to find that some of the stories, poems, and letters resonated with her more strongly after everything that had happened since Sam and Matt disappeared.

She read the Old Testament accounts of families that were torn apart and reunited, and wondered if her parents and brother could relate to these ancient characters. Did Matt feel like Jacob's son Joseph, alone, enslaved, and imprisoned? Did her father feel like Job, old and forlorn and angry with God? Did her mother feel like Jacob, sending the youngest child far away in the hope of saving the family as a whole? Jacob had a daughter named Dinah. Did she miss her brother Joseph as much as Pidge missed Matt?

The way Joseph's brothers lied about his fate, telling their father he had died, cut almost too close, bringing back memories of the Galaxy Garrison's report that Sam, Matt, and Shiro were presumed dead.

The story of Jacob and his children ended happily. So did Luke's account of Jesus' family getting separated on a trip. "Didn't you know I must be about my father's business?" Pidge could almost identify with that response, since she had always wanted to follow in her father's footsteps, and did whatever it took to get into his place of work, the Galaxy Garrison.

The journey of the Magi had always been the Holts' favorite part of the Christmas story. The wise men studied, observed, and traveled a long way to find proof of their theories and fulfillment of their predictions. Pidge could relate to them now more than ever before. She hoped her own search would be as successful as theirs.

All four of the Gospels described an incident in which Jesus tried to preach in his hometown, where people knew him but did not believe what he said. The way the Nazarenes treated Jesus reminded Pidge of the way the Galaxy Garrison officials treated Shiro when he returned to Earth: Shiro tried to warn them of the coming danger, but they did not take him seriously, and treated him like a criminal or an animal. Matthew 13:57, Mark 6:4, Luke 4:24, and John 4:44 all quoted Jesus as saying something to the effect of, "A prophet has no honor in his own country." Pidge supposed it was true of planets as well. If the paladins were to return to Earth now, they would most likely be arrested, hospitalized, or institutionalized.

Jesus' parable of a shepherd leaving ninety-nine sheep in order to find the one that was lost (told in two different accounts, Matthew 18:12–14 and Luke 15:3–7) made Pidge feel justified in her decision to leave Team Voltron and find her family.

Saint Paul's analogy in 1 Corinthians 12, of the body having many parts, sounded like an apt description of Voltron, and made Pidge feel guilty for being so ready to leave. She understood, now, the interdependence that she and her friends and allies had developed, that needed to stay intact in order for them to succeed.

"You read the Bible?"

It was the same voice that had startled Pidge out of her stargazing at the Galaxy Garrison. She reacted the same way, crying out, dropping her computer, and twisting around to face the speaker. "Lance! I—uh—I was just—"

"Relax." Lance waved off her embarrassment, smirking slightly. "I'm only asking because last time you were doing something sneaky, you were getting intel about an event that changed our lives, and the course of an intergalactic war."

"This isn't like that," she assured him. "This is a leisure activity. … Though, it does also kind of have to do with my dad, so it has that in common."

Intrigued, Lance sat down cross-legged beside her. "How so?"

"He likes to read the Bible. His first name is Samuel, so he's always been interested in the prophets; and he named my brother Matthew, so we would have a reason to check out the apostles. My dad always liked reading verses about stars."

"That's cool. Are there any verses about lions?"

"Hm …" Pidge typed in the keyword and skimmed the results. "… there's 'the lion of Judah' … and Daniel in the lions' den … 'the lion shall lie down with the lamb'. Some poetical references, mostly as a metaphor for danger or enemies. Oh, here's a good one—psalm thirty-one, verse ten, 'The lions may grow weak and hungry, but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.'"

"Is there a way to look up what parts would be read in a church each week? Like, for a Catholic Mass?"

"I don't know. On Earth you could probably find that information on the Internet, but obviously we can't access that way out here."

Lance was disappointed, and turned wistful, no longer looking directly at Pidge. "My family goes together … it always seemed boring, because the readings rotate and repeat every three years. So I didn't really keep it up while staying at the Garrison … but every time I came back, after being away at school, it was kind of nice to see that that routine was the same. Now I actually kind of miss it."

Pidge could sympathize with that. They all missed their homes, families, and old routines. "Well … you can borrow this, if you want to read it on Sundays or holidays."

He looked at her again, surprised and pleased. "Really? Thanks." Lance was truly appreciative; evidently it meant a lot to him. Then he asked casually, "Does your family believe in God?"

Somehow the question did not surprise Pidge as much as it might have if it had come from anyone else. Lance was impulsive and nosy that way. She shrugged and answered, "I don't know for sure. I think they do, to varying extents. My dad says science and religion are just two different approaches to understanding the world, so you don't have to believe only one or the other."

"So, what do you believe?"

Pidge fiddled with her glasses, avoiding eye contact with him. "I guess I'm agnostic. I have a hard time believing and understanding things that can't be backed up by science. I'm not opposed to the idea of a first cause, or creator, or a mode of existence after death … but when it comes to specifics of theology, I don't really buy into any one religion."

Lance nodded. "I guess I can respect that. I grew up going to church and Sunday school, but if I'm honest, even I'm not sure how much of it I believe."

"Then … why do you stick with it?"

He shrugged. "I can't find proof that it's wrong, and it doesn't seem worth the trouble of giving it up."

That did not sound like a good reason to Pidge. In fact, it sounded intellectually lazy. Not that Lance being lazy surprised her.

She decided to ask him something she had wondered about, which he probably could not answer, but which might make him think for himself. "I have a question. Different parts of the Bible say that if you don't forgive people, God won't forgive you. Right?"

"Right. Jesus told a parable about that. If God cuts you a break, you should do the same for others. 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,' and all that."

Pidge tried to keep her voice from rising, though her skepticism remained audible. "So, my family and I should forgive Zarkon and his cronies for separating us? And Shiro should forgive them for what they did to him? And Allura and Coran should forgive them for destroying Altea and killing their people?"

Lance was clearly not prepared for this line of questioning. "Uh …"

"What happens if they don't?" Pidge challenged. "What happens if I don't? Is it enough to try not to hate my enemies, or do I have to actively try to love them for it to count?"

"Good questions," Lance said loudly. "And my answer is … I don't know."

"You mean your religion doesn't have an answer, or it has an answer but you're not sure you believe it?"

"There's probably an answer in the Catechism, but I don't carry it around with me. So unless you've got a copy of it on that file," he said, pointing to her computer, "I can't be sure right now."

Pidge was a little irritated. She knew Lance was smart. How could he be so nonchalant or indifferent on such serious topics? "If your religion doesn't have the answers you're looking for, or it has one that you're not sure you believe, why do you keep at it? How can you have faith in it?"

Lance frowned at this, in a way that could have been either indignant or uncharacteristically serious. "I could ask you the same thing about science." Pidge almost gaped, and Lance smiled slyly, knowing he had surprised her and gained an upper hand. "Science hasn't given you all the answers you want, has it?" he pressed.

Memories of dozens of failed and half-finished experiments and research projects—some of her own, and many she had read about—flashed through Pidge's mind. "Um … no."

"But it has given some, so you keep plugging away at it. You have faith that there are answers, even if you don't know what they are yet; and you hope that you can find them someday."

"I never thought of it that way." Even as Pidge said this, something her father had said in one of their dinnertable discussions came back to her: "Science isn't a body of facts, it's a method of investigation. Evidence doesn't prove anything, it only supports theories." She also remembered a key reason for her father's respect for the deity of the world's major monotheistic religions: He was supposed to be the God of Truth.

"You and my dad would probably get along," Pidge told Lance. "This kind of stuff fascinates him."

Lance smiled. "I'm looking forward to meeting him."

Pidge returned the smile, though she still felt the dull kind of anxiety and homesickness that had chronically weighed on her since Sam and Matt disappeared. Feeling that way was what drove her to read the Bible at all, so she could feel a little closer to her family … and maybe draw some consolation from the stories, poems, and prayers.

"Do you ever pray?" she asked Lance.

"Sometimes … if there's an emergency, or I'm in a really tight spot. Not the best discipline, huh?"

"Next time you get around to it … could you … mention my family? I don't know how any of them are doing, and I don't know if they pray …" Pidge squirmed uncomfortably under Lance's indulgent smile.

"I'll put in a good word for you, but if you're willing to believe it makes a difference, you could try it yourself. Or ask Mama Mary to pray for you."

Pidge looked at him blankly. "Mama Mary?"

"You know, the Virgin Mary? Jesus' mom?" Lance became somewhat sheepish under her stare. "Ah, I guess that's too Catholic. See, since Jesus is King, we think of Mary as the Queen Mother, sitting next to Him, advocating for us. Her intercession's powerful, because He doesn't like to refuse His Mother anything." Lance grinned, his eyes glinting with his usual irreverence. "Like at that wedding where they ran out of alcohol, and she asked Him to help keep the party going."

Pidge laughed at that phrasing.

"If you want, we can do it together. Or, if you need something more intellectually stimulating, I can teach you to pray in Spanish or Latin." Off of her surprised look, he explained, "Mom made us learn the rosary in three languages, so we could pray it with whichever friends or family members we were with. It's the kind of thing you can't forget."

"… Okay. I'd like to hear the Spanish."

Lance cleared his throat, made the Sign of the Cross, and then rested his hands palm-upward on his knees. "We offer these prayers on behalf of—and with a petition for the safety of—the Holt family." Then he closed his eyes and started reciting in rhythmic Spanish. Pidge knew enough Latin and scripture to recognize certain words and phrases. She deduced that it was the Lord's Prayer, addressing God the Father, and a prayer to Mary, the purported Mother of God. She would have to ask Lance another time about the Trinity and Incarnation. It was weird to think of God having parents, or of humans having the same parents as God. The latter thought was kind of comforting, though, to someone who had not seen their biological parents for months.

"… ruega por nosotros, pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amen."

Pidge was a little startled by the last phrase. Once Lance had crossed himself, signaling that he was done, she spoke up. "That last word was 'death,' right? I thought, in Christianity, death wasn't supposed to have the final word?"

Lance laughed. "That's true. In English it goes, 'Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.' When you're about to die, you really want someone advocating for your soul." Immediately Lance thought better of his words, and tried to backpedal. "Not that I think that'll happen anytime soon, but, you know, it happens to everyone …"

"I get it," Pidge reassured him. She picked up her computer, then paused. "Hey, do you … could you write it out for me, real quick? In English?"

"Sure."

She opened a word processing document and turned her computer toward him. Lance typed out the two prayers and handed it back to her. Then he yawned and stretched his arms. "Well, that's all the catechesis for tonight."

"That's fine. Thanks for doing that for me," Pidge said sincerely.

"No problem." He clapped a hand on her shoulder as he stood.

They did not speak about the Bible or prayer again until after Pidge began studying the Altean language. Then one evening she came to Lance's room with a sheet of printed paper. "I translated those prayers into Altean," she said, offering it to him with a kind of casual pride. "I needed the practice, but I thought you might like the product, and since you gave me the text in the first place …"

"Wow, thanks, Pidge." Lance paused, looking it over, his facial expression shifting. "I don't suppose you could give me pronunciations, too? I mean, I'd use the Castle's tutorials, but I don't know if I'd survive."

Pidge smiled indulgently and said, "I'll talk you through it. Literally."

They spent hours going through each line until Lance could correctly enunciate every syllable. There was a great deal of goofing off involved, as Lance intentionally substituted ridiculous similar-sounding English words, or accidentally said Altean words that meant something entirely different from what he was trying to say. When they finally got through the text, they assumed a more serious posture, made the Sign of the Cross (Lance had to show Pidge how to do it correctly), and recited the prayers all the way through, this time trying to mean each word.

Pidge wished that this connection, or communication, or whatever this "communion" was supposed to be, was as easy as bonding with their lions. She knew so little about God and the saints, she doubted that she would recognize their presence even if they tried to show her that they were listening. But Lance believed in them, so maybe his faith could make up for her doubt.


Author's Notes

Music: "I'll Try" by Jonatha Brooks, from Return to Neverland

60% of Cubans are nominally Catholic, so to me it seems reasonable to assume that Lance grew up in that faith. After posting many of my headcanons about this on my Tumblr, I finally started a real story about it, entitled "Catholic Means Universal."