Messianism has driven us mad, or half mad, we decide. What else have we been thinking about since Christmas? What else has driven us through our reading and writing? We'll be glad when it's over: but when will it be over? There's no sign yet. Messianism hasn't had done with us.
We're fated in some way. We're circling round and round what we cannot possibly understand. And isn't that why we're drawn to it? Isn't that the lure? You cannot understand this idea. You'll never understand it, not today, not tomorrow. But the day after that?, we ask. The day after tomorrow?
That's our faith: it's not faith in the Messiah, but that we might be brought into the vicinity of the idea of the Messiah, that a little of its light might reach us. The Messiah: isn't he forever beyond us, just beyond? We've always just missed him. The appointment was cancelled.
Wasn't he supposed to arrive here, now? Not today, and not even tomorrow. But the idea of the Messiah: might we reach that? Is there something left of his passing, some trace – some sign? The day after tomorrow: that's when it will reach us, if it does, the idea of the Messiah.
But won't it have been too late? Won't the page have already been turned? But perhaps that's what it means: the idea can burn only for those who cannot see it, who have already gone under. It's on the other side of the mirror, although all they can see are their own stupid faces.
And what do we see, in the reflective surface of the train windows? Whose faces are those behind the glass? My God, look at us, says W. Look what we've become.
Lars Iyer's Blog 