A beggar came and sat before me. "I want bread," he said.
"How wise you are," I assured him. "Bread is what you need. And you have
come to the right bakery." So I pulled my cookbook down from my shelf and
began to tell him all I knew about bread.
I spoke of flour and wheat, of grain and barley. My knowledge impressed
even me as I cited the measurements
and recipe. When I looked up, I was surprised to see he wasn't smiling. "I
just want bread," he said.
"How wise you are." I applauded his choice. "Follow me, and I'll show you
our bakery." Down the hallowed halls
I guided him, pausing to point out the rooms where the dough is prepared
and the ovens where the bread is
baked.
"No one has such facilities. We have bread for every need. But here is the
best part," I proclaimed as I pushed
open two swinging doors. "This is our room of inspiration." I knew he was
moved as we stepped into the
auditorium full of stained-glass windows.
The beggar didn't speak. I understood his silence. With my arm around his
shoulder, I whispered, "It overwhelms
me as well." I then leaped to the podium and struck my favorite pose behind
the lectern.
"People come from miles to hear me speak. Once a week, my workers gather,
and I read to them the recipe from
the cookbook of life."
By now the beggar had taken a seat on the front row. I knew what he wanted.
"would you like to hear me?"
"No," he said, "but I would like some bread."
"How wise you are," I replied. And I led him to the front door of the
bakery.
"What I have to say next is very important," I told him as we stood
outside.
"Up and down this street you will find many bakeries. But take heed; they
dont serve the true bread. I know of
one who adds two spoons of salt rather than one. I know of another whose
oven is three degrees too hot. They
may call it bread," I warned, "but it's not according to the book."
The beggar turned and began walking away. "Don't you want bread?" I asked
him.
He stopped, looked back at me, and shrugged, "I guess I lost my appetite."
I shook my head and returned to my office. "What a shame," I said to
myself. "The world just isn't hungry for true
bread anymore."
