There is a deodorant ad on television in which an awkward young man, a user of this particular brand of deodorant, steps into an elevator with a very attractive young woman. They stand at opposite corners of the elevator. He is looking at the brass panel full of numbered buttons but you know his attention is really focused on the young woman standing behind him. He'd love to make contact but has no idea how to do that. But then as the doors close it seems as though the young woman has inhaled some powerful aphrodisiac. She moves toward him. Their eyes meet and as the elevator rises they lock into a passionate embrace. If you were the target audience of this ad, an 18-25 year old male, you'd be out of your sofa and into the deodorant section of a department store in a heartbeat.

The brilliant writer of this ad clearly knew what is in the hearts of young men. A thoughtful observer of the ad would, upon reflection, understand that the longing it points to is not just about physical contact but the deeper desire for relationship. The problem is that the brand of deodorant one uses has little to do with actually attracting a person and is certainly no substitute for developing real relationship skills.

But the reason the ad works so well is that we are forever confusing external cues and actual reality. Bishop Wolf of Rhode Island provided her diocese with a clear example of this when, on her sabbatical, she lived and dressed as a homeless person. After a sufficient number of days to serve as the "before" candidate for a deodorant commercial, Bishop Wolf began to unofficially visit the parishes in her diocese.

She had no miter, but dressed in rags. The fragrance that came from her did not remind one of incense or flowers, but of poverty. Her ecclesiastical authority was still in place- she could have baptized, confirmed, blessed or even ordained members of each congregation. But in some parishes she was ill received. It seemed that they thought her an uncomfortable outsider, not worthy to receive even the crumbs from the table much less to share the cup of wine.

Deodorant does not make the man. A miter does not a bishop make. And Jesus said to the gathered crowd that the dietary laws will not make you pure if your heart is full of evil. Another time he said to the Pharisees that they were like whitewashed tombs- beautiful on the outside, but full of death inside.

When we confuse the sandwich wrapper with the sandwich, we throw away the food and are left clutching paper which smells good but cannot be eaten and will not nourish us.

Dietary laws do not make a person holy in and of themselves. They are merely a way to focus one's attention on God. Without that deeper understanding, the inner being is completely unaffected by what passes through the gut.

It is not the food in our guts, but the relationship with God in our hearts that changes a person. It is not a tiny round wafer that causes communion. The bread is just the invitation. It is the relationship with God and God's people that nourishes us. Similarly, it is not the clothes we wear that make us respectable but the way we treat others. A bishop covered in rags - but full of compassion - brings more to community than a person wearing a million dollars in diamonds who turns the hungry away empty or bars a person from communion because of his or her clothes.

All the hymns we sing and the prayers we say are meant to be like water tumbling us in the river of God. We are shaped and formed over time, if we will let go and let it happen. When we let the water carry us our rough edges are smoothed away. The pattern and brilliance below the surface of our outward presentation is revealed. As each stone's sharp corners are worn away we become more able to move with one another more fluidly as the river moves downstream. We will crash into one another less, and dance in the current more, as we are so formed.

Or, we can sink to the bottom, anchor ourselves in the mud, and determine that we shall not be moved. We can go through the motion of song and prayer letting the invitation that is in them roll off our backs like rain off a raincoat. We can walk to the table and receive the bread, but somehow still come away empty handed. It is not the bread that saves. It is not the words the priest pronounces. It is the free gift God gives - in the person of Christ. But bread cannot be placed into hands that are closed. Nor can we sip the wine without touching our lips to the chalice.

There is often a sharp contrast drawn in the gospel according to Matthew. This morning's lesson is no different as it presents two vignettes. On the one hand we have the Pharisees who are outwardly observant while inside they are full of self-righteousness that will shortly lead them to plot murder. On the other hand we have a Canaanite women, outcast, marginalized but of stellar brilliance inside. Her focus is on the well being of her child. She is willing to humble herself but also is fierce in seeking what her daughter truly needs.

Jesus - who did not count equality with God as something to be grasped but would humble himself unto death on a cross for our sake - responded to her rather than the well dressed, the right crowd, and the speakers of pious words.

So these are the icons with which we are left- the young man in the elevator, the bishop in rags, Christ the light of the world and the nameless woman from the wrong side of town. These are the smooth stones that tumble with us in a riverbed full of water. These stones are but some of many placed for our illumination and our formation. We are surround by stories, some are dressed in words, others come attired in rags but all are seeking to shape our hearts and minds and souls. Everything we encounter is an invitation to dive deeper, to move with greater grace, to see beneath the surface of the river and embrace the life God gives.

AMEN.