Sufism, mystical Islam, has a collection of stories about the Mulla Nasrudin.

"Mulla" means "cleric," and these stories play on irony to point out subtle truths.

One story deals with appearances.

Leading his donkey, the Mulla made many trips into a certain city to smuggle something.

The authorities knew he was smuggling something, but they couldn’t find what it was.

Each time he came into the city they would stop him. They searched his pockets, his backpack. They’d go over to his donkey and search through his saddlebags, but they could not find anything.

This went on for years, until the Mulla retired.

In a coffee shop, one of the guards, also retired, sat down with the Mulla.

They laughed and carried on, and finally the guard asked. "I know it doesn’t make any difference, now, but just to satisfy my curiosity, what was it that you were smuggling into our city."

The Mulla smiled and replied, "I was smuggling donkeys."

The point of the story is that we make assumptions about appearances.

Since his donkey was always in plain sight, the guards overlooked it.

Appearances are not always what they seem.

        Escaped criminals, on the run, know this.

An escaped convict was running along the railroad tracks and ran into a policeman.

Since he was wearing jogging shoes, and sweats, the policeman didn’t think anything of it.

They had a nice chat, and the escaped convict continued running.

In plain sight is one of the best places to hide.

If an escaped convict dressed in a suit and tie, and carried a brief case, he could walk right down a busy city sidewalk.

People would not be inclined to be suspicious.

        Years ago, there appeared a book entitled, "Dress for Success."

Researches did a study, and determined the clothing that identifies successful people.

It became a best seller, and many an ambitious soul read the book.

During that time, gray slacks and blue blazers became very popular.

During that era, I remember a spot on one of the news channels.

Dan Rather was interviewing a group of senators.

Every one of them, including Dan Rather, had on a pin-dot tie … a solid color with tiny white dots.

When I grew up, the rule around our house was that on Sunday mornings, my brother and I had to polish our shoes.

We fussed about that—that was like being in the military.

And it seemed, every child at church school had polished shoes.

I had an pair of old canvas shoes, back then, that I loved to wear. "Converse" shoes, I believe.

They wear neat little holes around the toes.

They get nice and dirty.

Sometimes water soaked from splashing through puddles.

They were fun to wear, partly because they were comfortable, partly because they had traction on a basketball court, but mostly because my mom didn’t like them.

Now days, there is a certain status in the kind of sports shoes a youth wears –

It’s a language into itself … Athletic shoes seem to convey a certain class.

Nikes, Reebok, Adidas. Brand names that just roll off the tongue.

Smart looking shoes, and you can purchase a brand new pair of worn out blue jeans to go with them.

And everyone knows the message someone sends when they wear black socks with white tennis shoes.

Marshall McLuhan was a researcher who studied media back in the late 60s and early 70s.

"The Media is the Message," was his rallying cry.

He observed that we define ourselves by the clothing we wear.

Our role, our status in society, even our self-image—all are reflected by what we wear.

And we tend to react to each other accordingly.

A cowboy hat: and we get a picture of wide-open spaces, a certain part of the country, a culture, and even a style of music.

A baseball cap: and we have that sporty and casual look. It suggests ball games and picnics and tourists walking along Pier 39.

A tiny cap on the back of the head, and we think: "Jewish"

An "Indiana Jones" hat, or a safari hat, and we’re into adventure.

A firefighter’s hat that droops in back, or a ranger’s hat with its flat brim, or a green beret, and we quickly identify a profession and assume things about their experience and training.

Elmer, a good friend of mine, and I were in Mendocino. We went into a shop to purchase a hat.

Both of us are getting a little thin on top, and we didn’t want to get our heads sunburned.

We had a lot of fun playing with the brim of the hat.

Pin it up in front and it looks a little goofy. Turn it down on all sides and it looks like a relaxed fisherman. Put a few fishing flies in it and you’ve completed that definition. Down in front, curled on the sides, and down in the back, and you can almost, but not quite, get away with a little dignity.

Amazing, how just a turn of the brim can change the whole message.

        The book of James, in the New Testament, is counter-intuitive to all this.

James asks us NOT to define people by appearances.

James asks us NOT to judge others by the way they look.

Appearances do not reflect what’s deep in he heart.

James tells us that when it comes to "Love thy neighbor as thyself," we are not to make distinctions.

Certainly, our human love invites social filters.

But the distribution of God’s love flowing through us has no filters.

Like rain and sunshine, it falls equally on all.

If we are at a feast and two people enter the room.

One is dressed in a suit and tie, polished shoes – sits his brief case down at the door -- and the other one looks homeless.

Strangers, both of them, just watch how people react!

A love that judges by appearances is like a light finish on wood.

It doesn’t soak into the wood and treat the wood; it doesn’t protect the wood; it’s just a surface thing. It easily chips off.

Love that protects the wood soaks into it, and feels into the depths.

And as James says, what good is it to say, "be fed" when we just stand there.

Is being religious just a matter of saying the right words? Reciting the right creeds?

Charles Shultz of "Peanuts" fame has a cartoon about Charlie Brown and Linus, on a cold winter’s day, walking down the sidewalk.

They are bundled up against the cold. Snow flurries flying diagonally beside their faces.

And there is Snoopy, over there by his doghouse, shivering in the cold.

"Look at Snoopy," says Charlie Brown.

"Poor Snoopy," says Linus.

"Let’s go over there and cheer him up."

"Yes, Let’s."

So they go over to Snoopy. "Be of good cheer," says one. "Yes, be of good cheer," says the other.

And both of them turn and walk away. !?!?

In the last frame, Snoopy, with a perplexed look, is still shivering in the cold.

       The Apache Indians living in Arizona and New Mexico knew the desert.

The soldiers at the forts, did not. Typical of colonization, they wanted to claim land that they did not love nor understand.

When the soldiers wanted to put the Indians onto reservations, they had a hard time taking them off the land. The Apache loved the land and the land loved them.

The Apache would lead the soldiers out over the desert, further and further.

Until the soldiers ran out of water. Some died. Others crawled back to their forts.

The Apache knew where to find the water.

For in the desert, there are streams and rivers flowing beneath the sand. Lots of them.

Indians knew how to look below the surface into what’s hidden.

By knowing how to find the streams in the desert, the land gave them freedom.

At my former church, Pleasant View Christian Church in Independence, Missouri, we had an "Angel’s Unawares" program.