Parson to Person

Every February I seem to either write about Valentine’s Day or President’s Day; the twin plums of love and politics are always full and juicy for a writer. But this year I feel like revisiting a topic I seldom talk theologically about; perhaps we should talk about Groundhog Day?

Historically speaking, Groundhog Day is a direct descendent of Candlemas, which, for early Christians, was a day to bless and distribute candles— a hot commodity in the days before electric light, especially during the cold, dark winter. This celebration, halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, had been founded by the pagans and eventually given a new spin by the Church, marked by the blessing of candles by the local priest, and giving them to all the parish homes. Together they would kindle the Christ light, chasing the cold and shadows of winter temporarily away. Nice custom, yes?

Seasonal Affective Disor-der and candle-sharing notwithstanding, the early Christians stumbled upon another way to make the dismal season a bit cheerier: they communally decided that clear skies on Candlemas Day foreshadowed (if you will pardon the pun) a longer winter. There may have been some wagering; there was probably a certain amount of partying. By the time this tradition reached Germany (where, let’s be honest, the Lutherans were no strangers to either wagering or partying), the groundhog and his shadow had entered the story. When the Germans came to Pennsylvania, they brought their traditions—including the groundhog—with them. The quirky fun developed into what we now celebrate as Groundhog Day.

Here’s the theological part: it’s a strange bit of whimsy, the idea that, if things are gross now, they will clear up soon, but if they are bright and cheery now, watch out, because bad weather is on the way. Doesn’t really make much sense in the clear light of day, now, does it? Sounds like a way of thinking too superstitious for modern people, and yet, this kind of reasoning is all around us. We don’t tell others of our good fortune or recent love interests for fear that we will ‘jinx’ them. We assume that the current badness (in whatever arena) will be counterbalanced by another election, or another relationship, or a different town or job or church family. It is a skittish way to live, nervous of losing the good or of incurring the wrath of some greater power if we enjoy things too much. But for all the goofy fun of Punxetawny Phil and his followers, the deeper symbolism of light and shadow, cold and warmth, has unmistakable religious overtones. Helping one another through the coldest and darkest times is absolutely what we strive to be about.

I am all for a bit of partying, some innocent wagering, and anyway we can devise to lighten the burden of winter. I am not impressed, though, when silly thinking goes mainstream. Both religion and science have worked too hard, for too long, to have much tolerance for a superstitious culture. And so, my advice is pretty much what it is every Sunday; live in faith, not in fear; live beyond superstition into certainty. Enjoy the crazy aspects of a culture or a holiday, but keep a sense of balance. My life hero, Jesus of Nazareth, claimed that his yoke was easy, and his burden was light…doubtless it seemed so, since he maintained such extraordinary balance throughout his earthly days. On a lighter note, my magic hero Harry Anderson says, “Keep an open mind, but not so open that your brains fall out” …which is good advice, whether there are shadows to be seen in Pennsylvania on February 2nd or not! Happy Candlemas!