All of us have received over the past year brightly colored cards headlined “What Matters.” “What matters” is not posed as a question, though we respect questions and often rightly feel more more confident of questions than we do of answers. But here, “what matters” is stated as an assertion. What matters, we say, is: God, faith, thinking, marriage, scripture, family, sabbath, friendship, learning, hope, peace, children, education, youth, interfaith dialogue, community, trust.

    We are blessed with these things. They form the matrix of our life in God. But what happens when the hurricane strikes, or the market collapses, or the loved one falls ill or goes astray, or we fail or let others down? Then what?

    That is the problem presented in the reading this morning from Exodus. Moses and Yahweh brought the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. But that time of release and triumph recedes quickly, as day stretches after day in the wilderness. Where is God, now, the Israelites want to know? They are thirsty, and there is no water.

     They complain, demanding of Moses: “Is the Lord among us or not?” Moses fears the Israelites will stone him. He appeals to God, who promises that He will “stand in front of him.” He tells Moses to strike a rock from which water will flow. As dubious a proposition as this seems, Moses strikes the rock, and water springs forth, “so the people may drink.” God sustained life then, the scripture attests, even as we affirm He does among us now.

    Look around you. Look at your neighbor. Picture those who have worshipped, and learned, and laughed, and cried here. This is our water. And we have sung together, here, too. Last Saturday night Jeannie Arrigo and her friends filled this sanctuary with joyful noise. One of their songs seems especially appropriate for this morning’s reflection. Join me in repeating its chorus as our prayer together:

“Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear the music ringing; It sounds an echo in my soul-- How can I keep from singing?” (“My Life Flows in Endless Song,” Hymn 476)

    I mark a major birthday next week. So I volunteered to offer this reflection, thinking it would provide an occasion to consider what I know now that I was less sure of when I was younger. Contemplating this opportunity--and striving to resist the platoon of platitudes that threatened to overwhelm it--I thought of one of my favorite Garrison Keillor, Prairie Home Companion, characters: Guy Noir, Keillor’s alter ego “private eye,” whose story begins each week,

    “A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets. But on the 12th floor of the Acme Building, one man is still trying to find the answers to life’s persistent questions. . . . Guy Noir, Private Eye.”

    Well, I am still trying to find the answers to life’s persistent questions, just as the Israelites thirsted for water as they journeyed to their promised land. But this church and this country do challenge us, and give us the freedom, to search for answers (or at least better posed questions). Here, in this place we are free to use our hearts and our minds to worship as we choose, and as our consciences dictate. This is a privilege to be prized. We are free to decide--and each day live--“what matters.”

    So this morning consider this place, and what it has meant and will mean to us, and to those who come after us. And think also of this nation, where we are both able, and have the responsibility to choose how we will live together, to select our leaders--not only our president and legislators, but our school board members, and our park commissioners, and our library trustees.

    There is water here. Water for all, and for each one of us, as we live as a blessing to one another. What a gift! Celebrate!

       -  Given by Peter Baugher, September 28, 2008