Groundhog Day

This sermon was first given on our Zoom service on Sunday 14th February 2021, the last Sunday before Lent. The Gospel was Mark 9:2-9.

Today is, of course, Valentine’s Day. But, for my sermon this morning, I’d like to start off by talking about another February tradition; one less well-known in the UK, but widely celebrated in America and Canada. 

The celebration of Groundhog Day takes place at the beginning of February – on the second of the month. If you’re unaware of the festival, the idea is that, should a groundhog see its shadow when it emerges from its burrow on this day, it will retreat back to its den and winter will persist. If, however, the day is cloudy, and the groundhog does not see its shadow, spring will arrive early.

The day became the setting for a cult 90s comedy, starring Bill Murray, also called Groundhog Day – and it’s this film that has really brought the phrase into common parlance. The concept of the film is a man having to repeat the same day, over and over again. If you’ve not seen it, it’s well worth a watch, combining great humour and deep philosophical questions. In a regular rather pleasing joke, Sky Movies always sets February 2nd aside to play the film back-to-back, all day. It’s from this film that we take our usual meaning of the phrase – Groundhog Day is a feeling of constant repetition, trapped in a loop that we cannot escape.

For many of us, much of the past year has felt like that. It has for me, at least; trapped in the same loop doing the same things day after day with no variety of place or people. It’s hard to see a way through or out of this cycle; nothing is changing. Every day is Groundhog Day.

Our gospel today seems out-of-place, then. In a time of drudgery and monotony, today we hear about a literal and figurative pinnacle of change within the New Testament. It’s a literal pinnacle because it takes place on a mountain top, and its figurative because this is a key scene in the story of God’s plan for the world; I’ve mentioned in sermons before that it references all of the Jewish faith, with Moses & Elijah making an appearance, but, in hearing God’s voice from Heaven, we also have references to Christ’s baptism, and, in his glorious change of appearance, we gain a dazzling glimpse of the resurrection.

Rather than being misjudged, though, I think there is something purposeful about us hearing this story today. We know, after all that the lectionary is set, and not randomly thrown together – we have the same cycle of readings over a number of years, and today, the last Sunday before Lent, we always hear about this transfiguration event. It’s meant to prepare us for the Lenten journey.

Controversially, I personally don’t think we’re actually about to start our Lenten journey. I think we’re still within it. We entered Lent just under a year ago at the end of February 2020, and I’m not convinced that season has ended yet. We’ve had twelve months of self-denial and solemnity. All celebrations have been cancelled or muted. We marked the festivals of Easter and Christmas, but you could not really argue that we celebrated them; at least not together in community. No – in my mind, this is not the beginning of Lent – but, to badly misquote Churchill, perhaps it is the beginning of the end of Lent?

And if that is so, if we do not need to prepare for Lent, but instead continue to grit our teeth and endure it, why do we need to hear the story of the Transfiguration now? What good does it do us to hear of a handful of seconds pointing to the brilliance of change 2000 years ago in our time of 31 and a half million seconds (that’s a year) – and counting – of dullest monotony?

I think the point is this – that transfiguration story on the mountain may have only taken place in an absolute fraction of time, but – as I said before – it references all of time. It’s a finite moment occurring in infinity – and an infinite moment captured in the few ticks of a clock. The change is both instant and takes eternity. That’s helpful for us to see in any ordinary year as we prepare to enter Lent; it’s helpful to know that we expect to be changed ourselves by the experience, but – over a 40-day period – we know it will not be an overnight turnaround. Change takes time.

Even more so, in this Great Lent we still find ourselves in, it is important to know that we already have been changed by the experience – perhaps, in some cases for the worse, but also certainly for the better; we all have a deeper understanding of, and craving for, community; we have all had to face self-denial for the sake of others in ways we have never had to before; and we have all come to realise there were things and people we have previously taken for granted that we shall not think so lightly of again. At the very least, we have all become more aware of our own weaknesses, and our need to rely upon others and upon God. Perhaps for you, too, there are other spiritual disciplines you have been building in the last year, but, if not, we have all become more Godly over this time – a time that may – at this moment – still look to last forever, but I promise that it is one upon which we will look back as a handful of months. Right now, for us, like the transfiguration, this time is both infinite and finite.

And, like that transfiguration, we are being changed. In the film Groundhog Day, Bill Murray’s character learns to paint, sculpt and speak French in his path of repetition. But, more importantly than that, he learns how to love. His experience leaves him transfigured; a wiser, happier, more-loving man. For him, it happens over eternity; for everyone else, not trapped in that same time-loop, that change happens overnight. For us, when we look back at this Great Lent season, I wonder how we will find that we ourselves have grown? You might not have noticed, but it’s already happening…

Amen