Good Read
October 2024

Love’s Braided Dance by Norman Wirzba

Suzanne Shanahan
 
Leo and Arlene Hawk Executive Director, Institute for Social Concerns

Earlier this month I heard Bryan Stevenson, acclaimed civil rights attorney and founder and Executive Director of the Equal Justice Initiative, speak in South Bend.  As he does in his memoir, Just Mercy, Stevenson began his talk by making a case for the importance of proximity. He argued that it was simply essential to get close to those experiencing poverty or marginalization. “If you are willing to get closer to people who are suffering,” Stevenson says, “you will find the power to change the world.”

It was this very notion of proximity that I found perhaps most striking in Norman Wirzba’s new Love’s Braided Dance (2024).  Love’s Braided Dance—a title borrowed from a line in a Wendell Barry poem—is a book about the exercise of hope. The core argument Wirzba makes is that hope flourishes in our commitment to care for one another and our shared world. Wirzba begins with Ecclesiastes 9:4: Whoever is joined with all the living has hope. Hope here is a way of being that thrives in conditions of human connection and, indeed, proximity. 

This book itself is a lovely series of essays drawn from both personal experiences and historical narratives. Moving a “hope” from what is so often ephemeral to something much more visceral and embodied is a significant challenge. Wirzba captures this deep sense of connection perhaps best in the powerful first essay about Carmine and Rosaria Menna who find themselves rescuing a boat of drowning refugees in the Mediterranean, off the coast of Lampedusa. Months later, Carmine recalls the moment, “I can still feel the fingers of that first-hand I seize. How they cemented into mine, bone grinding against bone, how they clamped down with such a grip that I saw the sinuous veins of the wrist pounding. The force of that hold! My hand in a stranger’s hand, in a bond stronger and more intimate than an umbilical cord. And my whole body shaking as I pulled upwards and dragged the naked torso from the waves.” It was, in Stevenson’s terms, in “moments of inescapable humanity” that so much potential for a better world exists.

For Wirzba, hope is a sort of ethic committing us to the good life of beauty, love and truth.  While perhaps even more intellectually engaging, I struggled more to see hope as a way of being in the chapters that were more historical and/or analytical. This sense was especially stark given the powerful and visceral introduction and the chapter on love and erotic hope. I found myself at once resisting the more rational, logical approach in the chapters on the economy or architecture and yearning for what had been presented earlier as more deeply primordial and–in some ways–beyond careful, studied articulation. Perhaps it was that these chapters centered more on material over human connections. These chapters were, nonetheless, full of the rare nuggets of wisdom and creative scholarly connections emblematic of Wirzba’s work more generally.

There are two poignant chapters where Wirzba talks of his parents’ horrific wartime experience and their equally fraught post World War II migration to Canada and his own childhood growing up on a farm. The attention to both our own historical narratives but also to the natural world, to land and space, seem to echo and extend themes in his recent This Sacred Land.  The two lyrical chapters on forgiveness emphasize the demanding ethic of hope, and push the reader to understand the commitments hope demands. They could be a book unto themselves.

Wirzba’s epilogue, “Learning to Dance,” brings us back to a more embodied sense of hope. He concludes, “…it is a hope that is without perfection, a hope born of an excitement for life’s goodness and beauty; a hope tied to the pure, protection and celebration of each other, a hope committed to mercy and forgiveness; a hope manifest in the construction of built environments and just economies that honor the lives that move within and through them; a hope witnessed in the creative gestures that resonate in the world’s symphony of life.” Loves Braided Dance offers a wonderful guide on a pathway to hope.

[Disclaimer: I am a huge fan of everything Norman Wirzba writes. He is an unpretentious scholar of extraordinary wisdom, who possesses truly uncommon common sense. This book is no exception.]