Now, Commander Lee Adama is flying the Pegasus. And it will change him, too. "The Bucket and the Beast," they called them. Pegasus was a gift, too. Between the Bucket and the Beast, between Galactica and Pegasus, between Cain and Abel, or Adama, there's a razor line of difference. Luke 11:49-51, and it's once in a blue moon that I go near the New Testament, but check it: "Therefore also said the wisdom of God, I will send them prophets and apostles, and some of them they shall slay and persecute: That the blood of all the prophets, which was shed from the foundation of the world, may be required of this generation; From the blood of Abel unto the blood of Zacharias, which perished between the altar and the temple: verily I say unto you, It shall be required of this generation." Between the altar and the temple, well, that's where everything happens. It's where we live, in space; in time, it's our generation that pays. No matter what year you were born in, you're in the generation that pays, because this has all happened before and will happen again, and we slay our prophets as quickly as they come. Between the temple and the altar, there's a razor line of difference.
"Like I said, you make your choices and you live with them," says Kendra Shaw. "And in the end, you are those choices."
I don't think we could have heard this story before now, because when we first met Cain we didn't know how razors happen. We hadn't seen Kara stab a man through the neck and then return to her dinner, adjusting her napkin with blood on her face. We hadn't seen Ellen on Saul's shoulder, asking for her last cocktail. We thought Cain was just crazed, rabid, driven mad by loss and grief; we could never have admitted the worse possibility: that she stayed sane until her dying breath.
Aum bhoor bhuva swahah
Tat savitur varenyam
Bhargo devasaya dhimahi
Dhiyo yohnah prachodayat
We've heard it fifty-five, or a hundred, a thousand times, but we've never really talked about it. Every week begins in prayer.
Oh God! Giver of life, earth and sky
That heavenly light which must be worshipped
Let us attain the radiance of God
May our thoughts bring us ever forward into light
Every week begins in prayer: To burn off what doesn't work, so that we can see more clearly. Joseph Adama, the Caprica lawyer, he said once: "Be good, but not too good." So what happens when your prayers are answered? What happens when you see so clearly that you go blind? What happens when you burn off what doesn't work, and circumstances demand that you keep on burning, until there's nothing left? If you take away everything that a person is, and everything they wanted to be, and everything they ever were, and everything they ever loved. Orphans still have memory, and love, and dreams: What happens when you take those away, too?