Now that wording might all be helpful or it might well be a dodge. Thankfully, it is the duty of contemplation to report what it notices. To contemplate is not to solve cosmic or metaphysical riddles or play word games of neat nuance in some logic. To contemplate is to engage Deep Spirit. That practice involves caring for matters of flesh and bone and thus does its noticing elsewhere than riddle or logic, though anything may become a tool along the way. So apart from any answer so far, a different question entire arises, Could God be a thing unlike any other, so dissimilar that the notion of place is itself out of place, out of the question?
Perhaps there's a single obstacle to halting the search for The Hero For All Human Beings. It might be language itself, more precisely, how language gets employed. For your faith you can certainly hire language fulltime, so to do all the work but with all the benefits thereto appertaining. (That could include insurance against challenge or change and a pension plan that covers all else; of course, beware all pension plans, given today's marketplace.) Other faithful hire language part time, with a more modest job to do, and few benefits beyond the satisfaction of pointing to life's delight, now and then. Still others employ language little, or not at all, preferring the search for certitude in servitude, or, rarer still, solitude.
If Martin Heidegger wrote it once, he must have said it otherwise many more times, Language Is The House Of Being. Well, whatever Heidegger meant by that saying, the saying itself raises a bipolar concept, and you do not have to be the Einstein of religious thought to see it. To all faith, regardless of its anchor, speaking signifies being, even bringing into being. After all, the various scriptures of the world's religions are generally regarded as divine, and where not, at least quite special for purposes of study and guidance and spiritual nourishment. In one tradition, The Word is deemed so key as to be God, not just With God. And the God of that tradition creates in the beginning by utter saying, by utterance. Somehow might Word and World have a connection so intimate as to be of ultimate consequence? Is it for naught that the word "world" includes the word "word"? You can notice, but who can say?
