Taken From “catholicism.about.com”
Here in the United States, February 2 is Groundhog Day, the day on which every TV station in the land cuts to a live remote from Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, to see if an oversized rodent named Punxsutawney Phil, having bestirred himself from his long winter nap, will see his shadow when he emerges from his burrow. If he does, folklore says, the country is in for another six weeks of winter. If he does not, spring is on its way.
The literal-minded, of course, like to point out that spring will come no matter what a groundhog in Pennsylvania might see, and it arrives on the vernal equinox (March 20 or 21, depending on the year). Others point out the seeming illogic of the tradition: The groundhog sees his shadow when the weather is clear and sunny; if the skies are overcast—say, laden with snow clouds—his shadow will be nowhere to be seen.
Lost in all the discussion of burrowing rodents and sunny skies is the Christian origin of this popular tradition. February 2 is not just Groundhog Day; it is the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord, traditionally known by the popular name of Candlemas.
That certain Christian feasts draw heavily from pagan customs is a common claim, though often overstated, as in the case of Easter and Christmas, and sometimes simply wrong, as in the case of Halloween. One of the biggest errors made is to confuse pagan—that is, religious—customs with customs that are simply part of rural peasant culture, drawing heavily from the seasons and cycles of nature, but holding no pre-Christian religious significance. Christianity itself, through its liturgical calendar, is deeply tied to the change of the seasons.
Groundhog Day is a secularized version of certain traditions that were tied over the centuries to the Feast of the Presentation. The Presentation got its popular name of Candlemas because, on this day, starting no later than the 11th century, candles were blessed, and a procession was held in the darkened church. During the procession, the Canticle of Simeon (Luke 2:29-32) was sung. Simeon was an old man who had been promised that he would not die until he saw the Messiah. When Mary and Joseph, in accordance with Jewish law, presented their firstborn son in the temple on the 40th day after His Birth (that is, on the Feast of the Presentation), Simeon embraced the Christ Child and proclaimed:
Now thou dost dismiss thy servant, O Lord, according to thy word in peace; because my eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples: a light to the revelation of the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel.
“A light to the revelation of the Gentiles”: In the midst of winter in Europe, is it any wonder that those words took on a meaning tied to the cycles of nature, as well as, of course, their deeper spiritual meaning?
Over the centuries, then, the common culture of the various European peoples—tied, as it was, to their shared Christianity—developed other rituals attached to Candlemas Day. An ancient English poem (simply entitled “Candlemas Day”) read, in part,
If Candlemas Day be fair and bright,
Winter will have another flight;
But if it be dark with clouds and rain,
Winter is gone, and will not come again
Throughout Northern Europe, various nationalities took such ideas and developed their own traditions, often tied to those animals—bears, badgers, hedgehogs—that, in early February, were beginning to rouse themselves from their winter slumber. German immigrants to the United States, who had looked to the hedgehog in their homeland, found the groundhog in more ample supply in Pennsylvania, and transferred their allegiance.
As time went by, the Christian origins of the various Candlemas Day customs faded into the background, and we were left with Punxsutawney Phil. But for those who remember the words of Simeon, Groundhog Day will always be Candlemas, the Feast of the Presentation, and the light that shines on the beloved rodent will always remind us of the Light of the World.