…a stone, a leaf, an unfound door; of a stone, a leaf, a door. And of all the forgotten faces.
So, what is this about, you ask? It is about questions. What kind of questions, you ask? Indeed. What kind? Perhaps a few that are difficult to ask, or possibly not so difficult to ask, but for which it is only too easy to receive poor answers, depending upon whom you ask.
Little questions about what it means to be truly catholic and traditional in light of what could be called a "humble epistemology." What does right belief and right practice mean in light of both the revelation of the Logos and the post-modern skepticism regarding our ability to really understand what is truthful? Perhaps this isn't so new a question, but a reformulation -- perhaps this question is not so unrelated to those confessors and professors of apophatic theology, the theology beyond words and image, of a transcendance of which our tongues are unable to give voice except in metaphor.
In the coming days I, Xenophon Jones (perhaps not the everyman, but certainly a man, if not exactly this man, and not exactly not this man), will give a brief account of how I got to Eastern Orthodoxy from the fundamentalist evagelicalism of my youth and early adulthood, and then what has brought me to my current place of questioning.
After that it will be a free process of looking under stones and leafs and happened upon doors, through which I hope I will be accompanied from time to time by strangers, friends, and the occassional rogue (whether traditionalist, modern, post-modern, or any combination thereof) who will help this expedition be both a fruitful and interesting one.
O waste of loss, in the hot mazes, lost, among bright stars on this most weary unbright cinder, lost! Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?
from O Lost, Thomas Wolfe