"It is not forbidden for reason to speak of unity and even of unities,"observes Lev Shestov in his Athens and Jerusalem, "but it must renounce total unity--and other things besides. And what a sigh of relief men will breathe when they suddenly discover that the living God, the "true" God, in no way resembles Him whom reason has shown them until now!"
     Whatever else they may have done for him, Shestov's explorations of the limits of philosophical wholeness aptly enabled him to proffer this profound observation about the boundaries of reason.  Though we of finitude long for unity in our world, though we crave to see an inkling of comprehensive meaning in our experience, outside of looking beyond ourselves, we will likely never find it.  We live in a broken world, a world that, though pronounced good at the point of its creation (and remains so to this day), is a fractured world, a world in which those who live in it strive endlessly (for this is our bent) to identify some apex, some fulcrum upon which they may find how it--spiritually as well as materially--fits together.  And although we rightly employ our reason to pursue this goal, the nature of the world demands that we will never succeed fully, not least of all in regard to the inner workings of the divine.  "It" remains to be found.  As Shestov astutely notes, for all its marvel and wonder, reason will never show us the full reality of what really is, especially its relationship to God, for reason cannot fully grasp what it cannot fully see. 
     Only faith--faith as an informed, reasoned, and reasonable conclusion about the nature of immanent and transcendent reality, a reality inevitably undergirded by the presence of God and his communciation of himself in human form--has the eyes that really see.