Richard Wilbur's "Love Calls Us to the Things of This World" is a profound meditation on the nature of love, its connection to the material world, and the subtle presence of the divine within the ordinary. Far from a spiritual seeking of transcendence that abandons the physical, Wilbur's poem argues that true love compels us towards the tangible, revealing a grace that imbues everyday objects and experiences with sacred significance. The poem masterfully navigates the apparent tension between the material and the spiritual, ultimately demonstrating their inseparability.
The opening stanza immediately grounds the reader in the everyday, describing "the naked man" who, "as if made of glass," surveys his surroundings. This image of fragility and transparency suggests a vulnerability that perhaps makes him more receptive to the world's calls. The objects of his attention are remarkably mundane: "the sun-drenched rug," "the windowpane," and "the spattered dust." Yet, Wilbur imbues these simple elements with a quiet dignity. The "spattered dust" is not merely dirt but part of a larger order, "a glinting of the new." This suggests that even in decay or disarray, there is a potential for renewal and beauty, a hint of something more. The love that calls is not a demand for asceticism but an invitation to engage with these particulars, to see them not as distractions from a higher purpose, but as the very conduits of it.
Wilbur further develops this idea by contrasting the earthly with the heavenly, but not to elevate one over the other. He writes of "a cherubim and seraphim / who kneel," but these celestial beings are not depicted in some distant, unapproachable ether. Instead, they are found "in the chapel of the house," suggesting that holiness can be found within domestic spaces. The "windowpanes" are where "the light we love is made," a simple but powerful statement linking a physical object to a profound human experience. The poem challenges the traditional notion that spiritual fulfillment requires a rejection of the physical. Instead, Wilbur proposes that the divine is often revealed through the material. The "love" that calls is not an abstract ideal but an active force that draws us into deeper appreciation of the world around us, finding holiness in the "varnished bird" and the "lacquered gun."
The poem’s central metaphor of the "angel" serves to bridge the earthly and the divine. Initially, the angel is perceived as something separate, a being that "descends" to our world. However, Wilbur suggests that the "angel" is, in fact, an aspect of the world itself, or rather, the way we perceive its inherent grace. He describes the "plaster angel" that "is for decoration," suggesting that even man-made representations of the divine can serve as reminders of a larger spiritual reality. The "angel" is also the "sun," which, "rising," "strikes the windowpanes / and fills the house with light." This association of the angel with the sun, a fundamental force of nature that sustains life and illuminates all it touches, further solidifies the poem's argument for the immanence of the divine. The celestial is not separate from the terrestrial; rather, it is interwoven into its very fabric.
Ultimately, "Love Calls Us to the Things of This World" champions a form of spiritual engagement that is deeply rooted in the earth. The poem doesn't dismiss religious aspirations but reframes them, suggesting that true devotion is found in the careful observation and loving appreciation of the material world. The "love" that calls us is an impetus to see the extraordinary within the ordinary, to recognize the grace that permeates our existence through the tangible details of life. The "feather," the "spattered dust," the "windowpane"—these are not mere objects but sites where the sacred is revealed. Wilbur’s poem is a powerful affirmation of the world as it is, a world where divine beauty is not hidden but openly displayed for those willing to look.