On NPR today, a man was being interviewed who had made it his year-long quest to bake the perfect loaf of bread.
My first thought was, "This guy has badly underestimated the cosmic drama unfolding around him." My second thought was, "This guy has a really lackluster sense of his own personal calling."
Don't misunderstand me: I think freshly-baked bread is one of life's true pleasures. In fact, today I enjoyed a sandwich made with a nutty garlic and potato artisan bread: Nourishing and hand-crafted. But taking a year of my life to learn how to bake the perfect loaf isn't something that strikes me as urgent or enduring. Rather, it strikes me as a bit naive.
He has miscalculated two things: the unfolding Story into which he has been invited; and his place in that Story. It's much like the journalist in the movie, Saving Private Ryan, who had never seen battle before. He's been asked to join a rescue operation. He wants to bring his clunky and cumbersome typewriter; but the Captain, played by Tom Hanks says, "Here, take this instead" and hands him a pencil. The journalist didn't know what to take because he sorely underestimated the unfolding circumstances: He wasn't taking another desk job - he was about to engage in field ops, where he would get shot at.
Surely the man who took a year of his life to pursue the perfect loaf has much more to offer the world -- a more needed and substantial treasure to give. If our naivete persists, we might as well bring cookies and punch to flood victims; and board games to the clinically-depressed. Surely much more is needed than that.