Come let us worship the lord,
The king who is to come
That's the antiphon for invitatory this Thursday liturgy of the hours.
The one who is to come.
Not only is our God a no-name God, our God is seen as "is-to-come" -- which is tantalizing and exasperating aspiration while standing-sitting-walking in place, in every place, as is, contemplative practicing.
The doxology would say: the one who was, who is, and is to come.
"I'll be there, as who I am, shall I be there" is the no-name of our God.
This is comforting on so many absurd levels. As if: look for me and I'll show up in no way I can be grasped.
Maybe there is no way "I" can be, grasped.
God is the absence of “l", a no-name, ungraspable, no way, is-to-come, one.
Love, for God, is presence. Love for God is realizing your pilgrimage as arriving at no obvious place of stepping into a nothingness surrounded by emptiness and centered in a nameless, unrecognizable, and agonizingly given present.
We might find
And that would be our lament, our prayer, our communion.
Life, ever, lasting.
This is the last thing I long for!