It's Groundhog Day. Here is the story:
It was 1997 and four Calvin students headed off to Indiana, Pennsylvania to visit a friend.
Adam Vedra, Doug Appicella, Holly Roth, and me- the four of us off to see Shawn Anderson who was studying music and world religion at the local university.
Doug and Adam were from Naperville, Illinois and had never been to Pennsylvania (as far as I know). Doug remembered that that peculiar little town of Punxsutawney rested in the Western hills close to Indiana University.
We got into our cars and headed North. We had Doug's fancy Z-28 with leather interior, booming system, and girl appeal. We also had my little four cylinder Subaru Legacy. (I was the one that got the speeding ticket though!)
We got into the sleepy little town that only has excitement during the first week of February when they go through their animistic rituals of worshipping giant rodents while the rodent gives a forecast. They have been doing this here for 120 years- it literally marks ALL that this town is and ever will be.
As we arrived in the town I noticed some of the architecture. Typical small town PA. Big old Victorian homes that once towered over the streets. Old money that never became new. A lot of these homes and buildings now are in need of fresh paint and current landscaping. Dusty, old, and from an era that they thought would never end.
We looked for signs of this groundhog. We were quite sure that the thing lived in this town somewhere. We checked out the local library in search for the famed rodent. No sign of him (or of people that use the old library). We were given a clue by a town matriarch and we headed off to the town center which is nothing more than a typical city park. Benches, gazebo, old oak trees, and placards that mark the cities monumentous events. But one thing was different in this little town- there is a home erected in the center; not an old home as in Central Park, but an animal home. Something that you would see in a petting zoo. A tacky, rickety, old home.
The famed Phil lives here. Tax payers in that town have been paying a type of animal welfare for the past 120 years so that this one old woodchuck (and yes, they believe that he is 120 years old, but 111 when we visited.) can live in quiet fame 364 days a year; but in reverential fame for one day. This is Phil. We were able to get a look at Phil that day. The feeling was something like when you are in a place where famous people live and you catch a glimpse of them from a distance. You know that they remain unapproachable due to such fame, but you saw them.
Oprah in Chicago, Trump in New York, Leno in Los Angeles, Phil in Punxsutawney. We had witnessed fame.
In an anti-climactic fashion we decided that there was not much else to do in the sleepy town. We, being interested in religion in general, decided to go visit some of the local churches to see what they looked like.
We went to one that normally would not have interested us. It was not
Punxsutawney Uber-Reformed-Presbyterian Church, but it was
Saint So-and-So Church of the What's it Called. The name was bizarre. It was nothing that we had ever heard before. Something different than what we knew. We decided to go there.
As we entered we realized that this was just another Catholic Church. It was of some Italian order and that was why we did not recognize the name. It was typical inside though.
We entered. Giant marble bowl of water with which to cleanse your forehead. Giant shrine of the virgin with flowers and wafting candle scent below her. Icons all around.
There was one woman there and we thought that we should say hello to her. Shawn was filled with passion or compassion....okay....passion, as a ex-Roman Catholic he found that it would be ideal to speak to her about his new found freedom in Christ.
We approach.
She says "hi".
We say "hi".
"Great weather we are having", one of us say in an attempt to break ice as well as age and cultural barriers.
She agrees that the weather is really nice, "Phil has been really good to us this year, huh?"
[Shock and amazement compass us.]
"Did you say, Phil?"
"Yes, Phil has been really good to us this year, the weather has been great."
(Silence)
(Silence)
"Praise Phil!" Shawn exclaimed in a Pentecostally obnoxious voice, "Praise Phil!"
[We begin to chuckle.]
"Praise Phil" she said in agreement.
End of conversation.
We told the woman to have a nice day. As we got back into the parking lot of that little Italian church we realized that we had not only witnessed a woman praising a rodent for bene-climate weather, she also did not realize that we mocked her for her unusual faith.
It is ground hog day, nine years after that story was lived in the lives of young students. Nine years have passed, but the fact remains that I will never forget that moment. Never again will I look upon this event in my glorious home state as something that is fun, or entertaining, or jovial. I will forever look on this day with amazement. Amazement of the noetic effects of sin and amazement that people can get so serious about something so odd.
Today on the ride to class (yep, still in school.) I heard the mayor of Punxsutawney exclaim that Phil had seen his shadow. Six more weeks of winter is the prediction of this rodent.
In the background you can hear people yelling, "no!" "boo!"
I wondered about our little Italian grandma today. I wondered if yesterday she was in her spot in that little church praying that the lords of heaven and earth and sea and wind give Phil wisdom. Did she pray for the guidance of the woodchuck today? Did she say, "praise Phil" or was she disappointed that her god had let her down?
Lydia and I were engaged for five months and we were able to plan a fantastic wedding that was glorifying to God and edifying for those that were in attendance.
I look forward to spending the rest of my life with my beloved wife and I look forward to seeing what God has in store for us as he conforms us more and more into the image of his beloved son, Jesus Christ.
Psalm 128 A Song of degrees.
