This is a great reflection James, one that resonates deeply me. I recently explored this very idea in my Desert and Fire essay, The God Who Does Not Exist (https://steveherrmann.substack.com/p/the-god-who-does-not-exist). There, I explore a paradox like the one you raise here: that when we speak of God, we are never naming an object, never capturing a being among beings, but pointing toward what cannot be possessed by language at all. Not the “Supreme Being” perched atop the metaphysical chain, but Being itself. The Ground, not the thing grounded. Or as Tillich wrote, the depth of the depth.
You’re right to say that all language is symbolic. And yet there are symbols that still burn. Not because they explain, but because they pierce. In my piece, I suggest that perhaps God must first "not exist" - that is, not exist as an idol or concept we can carry in our mental pockets - so that the true and living God might be born again in us through encounter, through mystery, through flesh.
This, I think, is where the yearning for incarnation leads... symbols ache for substance. Words long for embodiment. And in Christ, the Word becomes flesh not to end symbolism, but to fulfill it... to show us that even the infinite can wear skin and still remain infinite.
This is a great reflection James, one that resonates deeply me. I recently explored this very idea in my Desert and Fire essay, The God Who Does Not Exist (https://steveherrmann.substack.com/p/the-god-who-does-not-exist). There, I explore a paradox like the one you raise here: that when we speak of God, we are never naming an object, never capturing a being among beings, but pointing toward what cannot be possessed by language at all. Not the “Supreme Being” perched atop the metaphysical chain, but Being itself. The Ground, not the thing grounded. Or as Tillich wrote, the depth of the depth.
You’re right to say that all language is symbolic. And yet there are symbols that still burn. Not because they explain, but because they pierce. In my piece, I suggest that perhaps God must first "not exist" - that is, not exist as an idol or concept we can carry in our mental pockets - so that the true and living God might be born again in us through encounter, through mystery, through flesh.
This, I think, is where the yearning for incarnation leads... symbols ache for substance. Words long for embodiment. And in Christ, the Word becomes flesh not to end symbolism, but to fulfill it... to show us that even the infinite can wear skin and still remain infinite.