Groundhog Day in Church

Sermon by Pr. Craig Mueller on the Presentation of Our Lord + Sunday, February 2, 2025.

Change is in the air. We are through the shortest and darkest days of winter. The sun has actually been shining some days, compared to weeks ago when we were locked in a weather system of clouds. And we reached nearly 50 degrees this past week.

We are exactly midway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. February 2, today. It’s called a Cross Quarter Day. The pre-Christian festival on this date was called Imbolc, meaning “in the belly.” It was the time when sheep began to lactate and their udders filled, and the grass began to grow.

But February can be a brutal month. Will winter ever end? We look for any sign of spring that we can. And in these dark , chaotic times, any sign of hope, any sign of new life. No wonder Groundhog Day captures our imagination.

 And the news is in! Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow. Six more weeks of winter! Shall we boo or cheer?

 But who would have thought that all this hype about a large rodent has a spiritual connection? First, it has to do with the deep stirrings within us. Like Simeon’s fervent desire that he would see the Messiah before he dies. What is on your bucket list? I don’t mean that you want to see the renovated Notre Dame or experience sky diving. What are the deep longings within you for whatever life you have left, for our church, for our nation, for our world?

Back to large rodents like hedgehogs. The Pennsylvania Dutch imported a German custom related to Candlemas, February 2. A hibernating animal, originally a badger, predicted how much more winter they would have to endure. As captured in this ditty: Ist’s zu Lichtmess klar und hell, kommt der Frühling nicht so schnell. If Candlemas Day is clear and bright, winter will have another flight.

The yearning for spring. The yearing for more light. The yearning for more in life. The yearning for a better world. The yearning for redemption. Yearning is a good word for what Anna and Simeon represent. They are elders. Nearly all their lives are behind them. Do they have any regrets? How are they facing the end of their time on this earth?

Anna and Simeon are part of a holy meeting. Jesus is presented in the temple forty days after his birth. Anna and Simeon look into the eyes of a holy, helpless child. They hold the infant in their arms. Yet they will not see the fulfillment. They will not see Jesus’ ministry unfold. They will not be there at the cross and empty tomb. And yet it is enough. They hold on to the dream. They imagine their deepest hopes coming to fruition. Their eyes have seen the promised salvation. And now they can die. They can die in peace.

Amid the unsettling news that weighs us down or clouds our vision. Amid our concerns for the future of our nation and our planet, what can Simeon and Anna teach us? What wisdom can elders provide? What hope can we find in earth’s cycles and seasons? What can get us out of our February funk to see the bigger picture?

Maybe it takes being near death or experiencing a great loss to see what really matters. As one Buddhist writer says, at those times we experience the full catastrophe of being alive—the momentous privilege—and the huge responsibility of having a life.

Most of the time we are on half-pilot awareness, not really seeing. But sometimes the curtain is pulled back. That’s what happens to Phil Connors in the classic movie, Groundhog Day, apropos for today. We watched it recently, intrigued that the movie had been filmed in nearby Woodstock, Illinois!

Phil Connors is not just a jerk, but he is unaware of what a privileged jerk he is. Phil is sarcastic, cynical, rude. No sense of vulnerability. No sense of gratitude. The spiritual challenge of his life comes when he is forced to relive February 2 over and over and over. He wakes up to “I’ve, got you, babe” by Sonny and Cher every morning. The same weather report. The same Groundhog festival that he is covering. It doesn’t matter whether the Phil the groundhog sees its shadow or not. Phil the man is unaware of his shadow side. All he can see is how miserable he is.

Who would have thought that what some consider the greatest romantic comedy of all time would spawn theological reflection. But it has. One author (Michael Foley) mentions that Phil Connor’s eventual “poignant emptiness recalls the chilling line from St. Augustine’s Confessions: ‘I went far from you, my God, and I became to myself a wasteland.’” As Phil says at one point in the movie: “I killed myself so many times. I don’t exist anymore.”

But there is good news. There is redemption in the movie. Through living February 2 on endless repeat, Phil experiences grace and learns a whole new way of seeing. Phil’s life is changed! He becomes kind and considerate! That is what our congregation’s mission is about, too: changed lives!

When February looks bleak. When the news brings you down. When you look at the human species and wonder if we have passed our expiration date. When you get stuck in the cycle of every day looking just like the one before. Take a longer view. Anna and Simeon—with a whole lifetime behind them, look into the eyes of an infant and see—or imagine—salvation. Redemption. A world set free from war and hunger and oppression. And then. And then they see. It is a cliché, but in light of the movie Groundhog Day, hear it in a new way: tomorrow is another day. A gift beyond measure!

And there’s more. The canticle of Simeon (in Latin, the Nunc Dimittis) is a song of freedom. In Greek it connotes releasing a slave. The word “now” matters. Now, Lord you let your servant go in peace. The profound liberation for Simeon happens the precise moment he sees the Christ Child. He is finally “released” to live.

With your eyes you have seen God’s salvation. In this place. In the joys and pains of life. You too have held the Christ—whether in the eucharist. Or holding a newborn. Or companioning a loved one as they die.

You, too, are now released to finally live. To treasure each day on this beautiful and fragile earth home. And then to go forth to be signs of change. Signs of hope. Signs of spring that will be here before we know it.