Army Postcards

Rosenzweig wrote the entirety of The Star of Redemption on postcards to his mother, W. says. All of it, every line, from the Macedonian front, where he was fighting. Admittedly, there wasn't much to do at the Macednoian front – that's not where the big battles were, but nevertheless. An entire book! Written on postcards! One after another! To his mother!, W says.

Rosenzweig! He's the measure of all things to us. The measure of seriousness. The measure of commitment ('he meant every word'!). The measure of acumen. The measure of religiosity. The measure of integrity. He turned his back on the university, says W. He devised a new form of educational institution! He lived what he thought. He acted on what he thought, which is inconcievable to us now.

Rosenzweig is a guiding star to us, burning brightly above everything. He's our inspiration. To write like him! Wholly in declarative sentences! To let your thought flash out! To write in sentences like bolts of lightning! Imagine him, Rosenzweig, at the Macedonian front, says W. Imagine, shells falling around him. Imagine, in the trenches (were there any trenches in Macedonia?) propped up against a dirt wall, writing another postcard to his mother.

Dear mother, he would write, and then off he'd go, W. says. Dear mother, and then he'd write his thoughts about God or death or Judaism horizontally, in the space left for you to write, and then vertically, as they used to do in the nineteenth century, using every part of the page. Sentences like lightning bolts. Thoughts swift and certain and sure, the shells falling around him (was the Macedonian front bombarded?)

He might die at any moment! A shell might fall and explode then and there! But he's writing horizontally, then vertically and then slantwise across his postcard. What do you think it showed on the front?, I ask W. What view did it show? – Nothing, you idiot, says W. It was an army postcard. Probably some artillery. Or a tank or something. Did they have tanks in the first world war?

By the time The Star of Redemption was published, he'd already left the university, W. says. He'd left it behind! He'd founded a new kind of establishment! He was educating young Jews, says W. Including Kafka. Did you know he taught Kafka?, W. says. Well he did. Rosenzweig taught Kafka. Which is quite extraordinary, when you think about it. Kafka and Rosenzweig, in the same room as one another. The younger man, the older man. Teacher and pupil.