The Thought-Harvest

It's time to publish, W. says. Time for the thought-harvest. Time to bring in the crops of his thought, stunted as they are, withered as they are. W.'s going to publish his thoughts on Cohen and Rosenzweig. On messianism.

Ah, of course he never really understood Cohen, such an unusual figure. And he never really understood Rosenzweig, either. Or messianism. What could he possibly make of messianism?

Time for the archive doors to open, and for his paper to be ceremonially placed in the stacks. Time for the garland of renown to be placed around his neck, and for the laurels of thought-victory to be placed on his head. Time for space to be made for W. at the table of thinkers.

Yes, it's time for his paper to appear on the desks of his fellow thinkers. Time for W.'s thought-contemporaries to say half-resentfully, half-admiringly, 'So he's finally done it'. So he's finally done it: remembering the promise of the thinker they thought he might one day be. Remembering the promise of thinkers they might have been. Remembering the springtime of their lives, when they had burned with the desire to carry the thought-hopes of their teachers forward into the darkness like brands, and then to light their own brands, and to teach others so that their own thought-hopes might be carried forward. And remembering the drunken promises they made to one another back then in those halycon days not to betray thought. Not to trip it up and laugh at it. Not to kick thought in the ribs whilst it was down. Not to vomit over thought one drunken Saturday night. Remembering their sense of being part of a thinking generation, part of a wave of thought, part of a pack of hungry thought-wolves loping over the tundra …

Here is one who has laboured as we laboured, they will say, the old guard. Here is a rival of thought, a foe – because his thought, his Cohen, his Rosenzweig, his messianism will also mean the demise of our Cohen, our Rosenzweig and our messianism, but also a friend, because this is a time without foes, because even a thought-foe is a thought-friend, so few thinkers are there. Here is one who has made Rosenzweig and Cohen – those essential thinkers, so relevant to contemporary debate – be reborn in thought again, whose ideas on messianism – the idea of ideas – allow messianism to sparkle as though new.

Ah, but he'll know one day what it is to be challenged in thought by a newcomer. He'll know what we know: the joy of welcoming a new thinker, a fellow thinker into the fold, even as that thinker must also be a rival thinker, even as the new thinker's Cohen, Rosenzweig and messianism entails the demise, the going-under of his (W.'s) Cohen, his (W.'s) Rosenzweig and his (W.'s) messianism. He'll be busy with the attentions of the young scholars, the old guard think. He'll be busy inspiring others, dazzling others, spreading the word of his Cohen, his Rosenzweig, his messianism. But his time will come, as ours has come, and one day, his Cohen, his Rosenzweig and his messianism will be supplanted in turn.