Man's ultimate concern must be expressed symbolically, because

The words of Paul Tillich — “Man’s ultimate concern must be expressed symbolically, because symbolic language alone is able to express the ultimate.” — carry the gravity of a prophet and the insight of a philosopher. They come from a mind that sought to reconcile the mysteries of faith, meaning, and existence in an age when the sacred was vanishing behind the shadow of modern reason. In these words, Tillich reminds us that the deepest truths of life — the ultimate concern of humanity — cannot be captured by literal speech or scientific formula. They must be expressed symbolically, through images, rituals, poetry, and myth, for only symbols can bridge the gap between the finite and the infinite, between what the mind can understand and what the soul can feel.

To grasp the power of Tillich’s message, we must understand what he meant by “ultimate concern.” For him, this phrase referred to that which a person holds as most sacred — that which gives life meaning, direction, and purpose. For some, it is God; for others, truth, justice, or love. Whatever name it bears, the ultimate concern is the axis around which one’s being turns. But Tillich knew that the infinite cannot be confined within the narrow walls of literal language. To speak of God, eternity, or ultimate reality as if they were mere facts among facts is to strip them of their transcendence. Thus, he declared that only symbols can reveal what is beyond comprehension, for symbols open the door to what reason alone cannot enter.

In the ancient world, this truth was well known. The sages of Egypt, the poets of Greece, the mystics of India — all spoke in symbols, knowing that the divine cannot be described, only hinted at. The lotus, rising unstained from the mud, symbolized the purity of enlightenment. The phoenix, born from its ashes, symbolized the eternal cycle of death and rebirth. Even in the sacred texts of the Hebrews, the divine name was never spoken directly, for to speak it plainly would be to reduce the Infinite to the ordinary. Thus, from the dawn of civilization, humanity has cloaked the unspeakable in symbol — a gesture of reverence that acknowledges both our yearning for the divine and the limits of our understanding.

Tillich’s insight arose in the twentieth century, when faith was being tested by reason, and theology was losing its sacred language. He sought to restore the bridge between religion and modern thought, teaching that symbols are not mere ornaments of belief but living vessels of truth. When he said that “symbolic language alone is able to express the ultimate,” he did not mean that symbols are lies; he meant that they are truths clothed in mystery. The cross, for instance, is not merely a wooden instrument of death — it is a symbol of sacrifice, reconciliation, and divine love. To those who look with the eyes of spirit, it reveals not history alone, but the heartbeat of eternity.

Consider the story of Saint Francis of Assisi, who called the sun his brother and the moon his sister. To the literal mind, such words seem fanciful; yet to the symbolic mind, they are pure truth. In his language, Francis declared that all creation is kin, bound together in the web of divine love. His symbols lifted ordinary reality into a vision of cosmic unity. This is the essence of Tillich’s wisdom: that symbols allow us to speak not merely of what is, but of what means. They transform the visible world into a mirror of the invisible, awakening in us the awareness that life itself is sacred.

Tillich’s words also serve as a warning for an age that worships literalism and mocks mystery. When the symbol is misunderstood, when it is taken as a fact instead of a gateway to meaning, its power dies. The sacred becomes superstition, and the divine becomes dogma. Those who cling to the letter lose the spirit, and the temple of meaning collapses into dust. To live without symbols is to live without depth — to wander a world stripped of wonder, where every mystery is dissected but nothing is truly known. Yet to live with symbols is to walk in the company of the eternal, seeing in every sunrise, every word, every act of love, a reflection of the Infinite.

The lesson of Tillich’s teaching is therefore profound and practical. If we wish to live meaningfully, we must learn again the language of symbols — to read the world as the ancients did, with eyes that see beyond appearances. When you behold the flame of a candle, see not only light but the symbol of hope and endurance. When you hear music, recognize in it the symbol of harmony amid chaos. When you love, know that it is the symbol of the divine longing that moves through all hearts. To see symbolically is to awaken the soul from the sleep of literalism, to discover once more that life itself is a sacred text, written not in words but in signs and wonders.

So, O seeker, remember Tillich’s counsel: the ultimate cannot be spoken plainly, for it dwells beyond the reach of the tongue. But it can be shown, sung, and symbolized — in art, in faith, in the small gestures of love that reveal the Infinite within the finite. Cherish the symbols that guide you, for they are the bridges between your soul and eternity. And when you speak of the ultimate — of God, of truth, of meaning — speak not as one who explains, but as one who reveals. For only symbolic language can hold the weight of the divine, and only the heart that understands symbols can truly touch the mystery that gives life its purpose.