The First Parish in Bedford Unitarian Universalist 75 The Great Road, Bedford, Massachusetts 01730 On the Common 781-275-7994

Groundhog’s Day Revisited

A Service presented at First Parish in Bedford
on January 28, 2001
by Libby Hanna

 

 

You don’t have to hate January, but no one could particularly fault you if you do. January was made to be hated. You’ve been juggling winter boots, hats, gloves and coats since November already. The joyful memories of holiday feasts and reunions are behind us, and the tangible remnants of the holidays are that leftover fruit cake and the pine needles that keep turning up in our slippers and the weird gifts we keep spotting as they move from room to room with the tide of clutter. Those lovely holiday cards and year-end letters from old friends have given way to a stream of bills and notices from the IRS and those euphemistically named profit-and-loss statements from the mutual fund companies. I’m still waiting for one that says “profit” this year. If the doctor and the pharmacy offered a frequent-flyer program, you’d have enough miles to take the whole family to Florida, which you’d do in a minute except that there is always someone sick. The Holiday Season is over, and we are left with Kleenex and bad hair and ice dams and suits and boots and … January.

And this, mind you, is supposed to be a “New Year”.

To add insult to injury, custom has it that we were also supposed to set “New Year’s Resolutions” at this dreary moment in the nadir of the seasons. With our nerves jingled and jangled, with far too many sins fresh in our minds and ripe for reform, why do we choose January in which to tackle our fiercest demons? Losing those extra holiday inches. Starting a budget. Cleaning out those piles of junk sitting all around. Drink less. Exercise more. Ok, so – will I choose Plan A, slog through the slush to a steamy gym and bicycle to nowhere? Or Plan B, a brisk daily walk down on the side of the road – no sidewalks available – facing into a stiff North wind? Hmmm.

In the face of this unappetizing dilemma, I have an answer, and it is “choose Plan B”. But there’s more to it than that. My proposal is, in fact, a rethinking of the whole way we approach the start of a New Year and the nonevent we call January. And, as you guessed by the title of this service, yes, indeed, at the end we celebrate the whole thing with a souped-up version of Groundhog’s Day. First, however, you’re right – we have to find something to celebrate. And so here goes – step by step, my pitch for The Elevation of Groundhog’s Day to a Major National Holiday.

Pitch Number One: Groundhog’s Day Marks Real Changes in the Natural World

Let’s go back a moment to that stiff North breeze on your cheek as you walk around the block on the dirty ice at the edge of the road. If you are even out in January, chances are it is because someone is making you do it. Your dog, your child, your doctor. In fact, I “found” this holiday two years ago, when my daughter Caroline required that I bundle her up under my coat and walk her around the block every day in order to get her to take a nap. Every day, rain, shine, sleet or snow, we walked, and even though that was a fairly dry year, there were many days where I did not enjoy that forced outing one bit. It was cold, it was windy, there was no sign of life anywhere. It was January in every sense of the word.

But there is always a day, one day, around Groundhog’s Day, when suddenly, you walk outside and something is different. The sun suddenly feels warm on your cheek, really warm, enough so that you need to pull off your glove and touch yourself to believe it. The air has a wetness and softness you can smell and feel, and it stirs you in some mysterious way deep in your soul. You look up for the first time in weeks, and you see the faintest blush of red in the trees, and you listen and hear the sound of running water –the sound of life itself – and you know that the world has crossed a threshold, and your heart springs with hope.

Listen to the birds; their song has changed. Like us, birds don’t seem to have a lot to talk about in December and January. The little birdsong there is seems dry and purposeful, perfunctory messages about who just filled the feeder, but no art or heart in it. Come Groundhog’s Day, however, the birds are beginning to sing a different tune. They have love in their hearts – and maybe some other ideas too. That big pine tree that stood only for shelter all winter is now prime real estate for attracting a mate, and you will see the cardinal up there boldly letting the world know about it. The Audubon Society’s calendar tells us: chickadees begin to whistle their spring “Phoebe” chirp and Tufted Titmice begin calling for “Peter, peter” at this time of year. Crossbills and Pine Grosbeaks are arriving. They are actually coming to New England in late January on purpose!. You may not know it, but at night, right under your window as you doze, skunks and raccoons going mano-a-mano in the snow to find the better man, and Great Horned Owls are carrying on in the trees. Listen to the song of the birds. No, it’s not winter, and no, it’s not Spring, but it is an important moment in between, and our furred and feathered friends have been celebrating it forever.

Pitch Number Two: Groundhog’s Day has a long, honorable history as recognized by our Pagan forebears

Our humble Groundhog’s Day stands on the spot where the Pagan Festival of Lights once stood on the calendar. Originally – and I get this direct from the high authority of www.witchesweb.com – this holiday was called “Imbolc” or “Oimelc” and sprung from the perception of the ancients that “in the womb of the Mother, hidden from our mundane sight but sensed by a keener vision, there are stirrings.” In the Pagan cycle of the seasons, this is the time when the Great Mother Earth becomes again the Young Maiden Goddess, robed in white, preparing to welcome her lover.

In ancient Celtic lore, the holiday also honored the great Irish Goddess Brigit. She was the goddess of fire, patroness of smithcraft, poetry and healing, and at her shrine in the ancient Irish capital of Kildare, nineteen priestesses kept a perpetual flame burning in her honor.

In Christianizing the Celts, the medieval church decided that Brigit was too loveable to be demonized, so sensibly, she was canonized as Saint Brigit, now the patron saint of smithcraft, poetry and healing. The fire symbolism of Brigit’s Day was carried over with the burning of bonfires and the making, blessing and lighting of candles, giving us the Christian holiday of Candlemas. From my own Catholic childhood, I do not remember celebrating Candlemas, on which day the year’s supply of church candles is blessed, but I remember keenly the peculiar custom that followed on Feb. 3, St. Blaise’s Day, known as “The Blessing of Throats”. Everyone lined up, communion-style, to have the priest lay a candle (unlit, of course) on either side of your throat and mumble a prayer to protect you from colds, flus and the like. The silky feel of the candles and the wonderful weirdness of it all is one of my few truly fond memories of Catholic worship and probably foretells the little Pagan in me struggling to get out even then.

Pitch Number Three: Groundhog’s Day has a great biblical justification and provides a much-needed period of Advent

I’ll confess: this was my first tip-off that there was more to Groundhog’s Day than that first welcome bit of warm sun. Pull out the calendar and you’ll find that Groundhog’s Day lies exactly 40 days after Christmas Day. Just hearing the words “40 days” should make your theological warning bells go off. The Bible is full of important things that took forty days to pull off. Noah’s Ark: forty days of rain. The Embalming of Jacob: 40 rather odiferous days. Forty days to size up the land of Canaan and determine it was flowing with milk and honey. (And incidentally, forty years of wandering in the desert as punishment for questioning God’s word about whether or not this was really the promised land.) Moses did quite a few stints of forty days and nights prostrate on the ground to atone for the sins of Israel.

Moses also spent forty days with God in a cloud to design the tabernacle and carve out the famous two stone tablets. If you’ve ever been involved in, say, a large building project, you’ll appreciate this: finishing the architectural specs and getting a contract written in stone in forty days – now you know why that was a miracle. And if you’ve still got any doubt about the power of forty days, how about the one where Jonah walks through the streets of Ninevah proclaiming, “In forty days, Ninevah shall be overthrown!” “Ohmigod, forty days!” they all cried, and immediately, everyone dons sackcloth and ashes and Jonah takes the city without breaking a fingernail.

In my opinion, it is in The New Testament where the power of forty days goes beyond a ritual observation, and speaks to the palpable fact that forty days is just about how long someone needs to reflect, observe, come to terms, and be ready for change. Jesus spent 40 days in the wilderness after his baptism, during which he learned to turn away from the temptations of Satan, and they were powerful temptations. And after death, Jesus returned for – you guessed it – forty days to teach the apostles their trade and show them the Kingdom of God.

Candlemas – forty days after Christmas – is also celebrated as the day of Mary’s Purification and the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple. Practically, we can imagine Mary’s relief at finally getting out of the house after forty days within, and if she was lucky, might have coincided with the miracle called “Jesus Sleeps Through the Night For the First Time.” Symbolically, it was the first time the baby Jesus – the Light – became visible to all.

And herein lies the crux of my thesis as regards Groundhog’s Day. We have Christmas Day, and no doubt Christmas Day is great and wonderful and full of love, joy, hope, and candy, but stepping off Christmas is like stepping into an abyss. What we’re encouraged to do in the current scheme is take just 7 days to figure out why we suddenly feel let down, dissatisfied and unsure where to turn, and resolve – bang! – to change it. Wrong! I move that the forty days between Christmas and Groundhog’s Day become officially recognized as an Advent of Introspection – a time to resolve nothing, start nothing, decide nothing, but rather, like the earth, to listen, quietly for the faint stirrings within, to observe, to understand, and slowly, to come to a plan. Not forty days of lying prostrate, but forty days of wandering: outside through the woods, and inside the rooms of your soul. Listen closely to yourself in January, and you might find birdsong and you might find the Winter of your Discontent, but everything you hear in the quiet and dark is valuable and important and part of the answer to the puzzle. Like the earth, listen, wait, and you will soon feel the change coming, growing inexorably and improbably, the question and the answer neatly entwined, lying hidden beneath the snow.

Pitch Number Four: Groundhog’s Day already has its own movie, and mascot, and great commercialization possibilities

Let’s face it, this is America, and if a holiday wants to have significant market share, it needs a business plan! So here goes. We all know Christmas would never be what it is today without its mascot, i.e. Santa, and The Four Movies of Advent, namely Rudolph, the Grinch, Charlie Brown Christmas and It’s a Wonderful Life. Groundhog Day has its own great movie, appropriately named Groundhog Day. This is a film, mind you, which has already risen to the level of cult classic among a certain population who strongly connect with its delightful message. Since if I have my way, all major networks will be broadcasting this movie yearly in this season from now on, I won’t give the whole thing away, but in short:

Bill Murray plays a self-centered weather man sent on the tedious assignment to cover the Groundhog Day festivities in Punxatawny, PA. Murray is dripping with condescension and impatience and is bitterly delighted when the day is over. Much to his surprise, when he wakes up the next morning, it is Groundhog Day all over again, forcing him to repeat the dreaded experience, and with even worse behavior than before. And so it goes, day after day, Murray wakes to find that nothing has changed. He must repeat Groundhog Day over and over again until finally, it slowly dawns on him that the only thing he can change is himself. You will delight and probably squirm watching how Murray experiments in his unique prison. The despair and frustration that lead him to his epiphany spell out the lesson of this holiday perfectly: if you don’t stop to figure out what you are doing wrong, you will not get it right.

Besides the movie and its residuals, let’s not discount the merchandizing possibilities of this holiday. Already today on www.groundhogday.com, you can purchase t-shirts, coffee mugs, travel bags, dishtowels, ashtrays, sock puppets and calendars with the cheerful countenance of Punxatawny Phil emblazoned on them. Just wait until my whole Groundhog’s Day movement kicks in and we see the likes of The Stephen Covey Change Your Life in Forty Days Groundhog Day Audiotape and Workbook. 10% of all proceeds to benefit First Parish. No question, this is a holiday that with just a little marketing, is poised to become the Next Great Thing.

Pause

I have given you a lot of justifications for this holiday, but I have said precious little about its namesake of that fat furry weather prognosticator of limited ability. Is his whole role in this shebang to be reduced merely to a cute icon, the Beanie Baby of Candlemas? What is the lesson that the Groundhog has to offer us?

To start with, the Groundhog reminds us, perhaps uncomfortably so, of how we often feel at this time of year. Lumpy and sleepy and out-of-sorts, we peer over the edge of the holes we’ve dug, despairing for any sign that Spring is on the way. But the Groundhog himself is a natural creature. Against all odds and defying his admittedly spotty record as a forecaster, he comes out year after year after year, honoring this majestic yet almost unnoticeable moment in the turn of the seasons just by being there. He reminds us that not all miracles come with blaring trumpets and herald angels and a blaze of glory. Some miracles are shy and quiet and make themselves visible only to those who are willing to wait patiently in the cold for them. So like the ancients, let us honor Groundhog’s Day with the dignity it deserves, by lighting lights in our homes, and by searching, patiently, thoughtfully in the dark and quiet, for the light in ourselves that burns brightly, no matter what the weather.

The new custom of this holiday will require that we light and burn a candle to its end on the Eve of Groundhog Day and that the candle you use must be blessed beforehand. Take out those candles you brought from home. Here’s mine. This is a lovely one, isn’t it? It goes in our little Christmas Advent ting-a-ling thing, do you have one of those, with the little angels that go around? It melted in the attic over the summer and is so bent now it hardly can move the angels at all. Hold your candle in your hand, and if you forgot the darn thing at home in the junk drawer, hold it in your heart – we are going to bless them now.

 

Spirits of Light and Darkness:

Look kindly on this collection assembled here before you,

Imperfect, misshapen, ill suited for their function; feeling, perhaps, nearly all used up,

But see that the light that comes from them is as pure and straight as the light from any perfect vessel,

That they shine through the darkness as bravely as a far greater flame.

We look beyond their size and shape and age and utility and see inside their pure bright flame, which is holy.

Just as we love the light, let us also embrace the shadows,

For in the shadows lie those truths we sense but do not know,

We listen and we learn; we watch and we wait,

And in faith we know the light will grow, without and within.

Amen and Blessed Be.

 

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