Shadow Boxing: Groundhog vs. Superbowl
Yep, it’s that special time of year. Again. And, no, I don’t mean the Superbowl!
I don’t know that I’ve ever owned up to the fact that the Superbowl means absolutely nothing to me. In the x number of years it’s been going on, I’ve only seen two Superbowl games from start to finish. In both instances, it was all about the people and the food and hardly at all about the game (or the commercials). And, my brother-in-law shushing the rest of us so he could watch.
Don’t get me wrong. Even though I don’t make a fuss about attending High Mass at the Church of Professional Football, I am all about the Game. Of Life, that is. That’s why tomorrow evening (unless we get a last minute invite to someone’s Superbowl Party), I’ll be doing what I always do on February 1, celebrating the Eve of Groundhog Day.
I love Groundhog Day! Unlike Christmas and the Superbowl, it’s a holiday that a) hasn’t been over-exploited by commercial enterprises (the movie doesn’t really count) and b) makes excellent spiritual/psychological sense. I watch the movie every year. This year’s viewing will be accompanied by chips and guacamole.
As a preacher, I gave my very first Groundhog Day sermon before I’d even become a full-fledged minister. It was 1986—actually several years before the Bill Murray movie was made—and my audience was my Licensing & Ordination Committee at Unity School. In the talk, entitled “The Groundhog’s Dilemma,” I suggested that, just like the groundhog, we humans are afraid of our own shadow; however, as we continue to run from it back into our hidey-holes—projecting our shadow onto handy blame magnets—we miss out on the fine weather of a happier existence. One of the committee members asked if she could steal it for her next Sunday’s sermon. I attribute this to the irresistible appeal of Groundhog Day themes which the subsequent film illustrated with far more accuracy than I could ever squeeze into a Sunday sermon.
So, yep, it’s time for Sonny & Cher to rise and shine—again. And for Bill Murray to step into that icy puddle—again. And again. And again. Until he doesn’t, thank God. Again. I hope this year you’ll take time out from your Superbowl indulgences to reflect on the central question of Groundhog Day: What do you do when you see your shadow? (As for me, when I can see my shadow(s) I try to paint 'em!)
Please, if you didn’t get invited to a Superbowl Party, don’t feel you’re alone. (My sole invitation—so far—is to a party several thousand miles away!) You’re welcome to come over to my house and watch the movie with me and Roo. Oh, and bring a Groundhog-related snack.
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