If you haven’t seen the movie Groundhog Day, you’re either very old, very young, or completely detached from contemporary culture. Upon its release in 1993, the title instantaneously became a buzzword for the haunting feeling of living the same day over and over.
Ironically, you can watch the movie again and again without it ever getting old. But from the first time I saw it, I had a question: What does the story actually have to do with Groundhog Day?
If you haven’t seen the movie, go watch it right now. (We’ll be here when you get back.) Bill Murray plays Phil Connors, a cynical, narcissistic TV weatherman dispatched against his will to cover Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Trapped in the tiny rural town by a snap blizzard, Phil wakes up the following morning to discover that yesterday has become today. The same thing happens again the next day and the next and the day after that.
Initially, Phil believes he’s woken up in the ultimate amusement park. Since each day resets the next morning, he faces no consequences for his actions. He spends his time seducing women and causing general mayhem. But as hedonistic indulgence inevitably grows tiresome, boredom overtakes him and depression sets in. Eventually, he attempts suicide, but even then he cannot free himself from looping back to the same day over and over.
At long last—spoiler alert—Phil decides to make the most of his days. He spends hours at the library reading, studies medicine, learns ice sculpture, and becomes a jazz virtuoso on piano. He orchestrates each day to help townspeople in need, ultimately reinventing himself as the ideal of what every human being should be: disciplined, selfless, kind, humble, and supremely talented in a multitude of skills.
In the end, Phil wins the affections of his producer, Rita, who had remained unimpressed by his earlier self but cannot resist the uber-mensch into which he has finally transformed. He has achieved the highest level of this week’s entry into the Ethical Lexicon:
Rehabilitation (re·ha·bil·i·ta·tion/ ree-huh-bil-i-tey-shun) noun
The restoration of something damaged or deteriorated to a prior good condition
The process of restoring a person to a useful and constructive place in society
Despite all that, my original question remains: What does the story really have to do with Groundhog Day? Presumably, it could just as easily have been titled Thanksgiving Day, Christmas Day, Labor Day, Memorial Day, or Halloween (although that one was already taken). So why make it Groundhog Day?
What the producers and writers had in mind, I have no idea. But here is my thought.
We all possess a dark, shadowy side to our personalities. Our DNA, upbringing, friends, teachers, and personal experiences combine to influence us toward, or away from, a life of virtue and a higher calling. Without mindful and purposeful attention, we may become so habituated to the promptings of our lesser angels that we forget there is no other way to live our lives.
From time to time, just like the groundhog, we may catch sight of our shadow-self reflected in the reactions our vanity and pretense elicit from others. But that can easily serve to reaffirm our smug sense of superiority, driving us back to the cold comfort we find in the familiar winter of our discontent.
However, every once in a while, even the most jaded cynic looks out at the world and discovers that their contrarian outlook has betrayed them. In that moment of clarity, we may catch a glimpse of who we might have been had the past unfolded differently, of who we still could be if we take a different fork in the road.
And when that moment arrives, if we respond by turning away from the darkness and toward the light, we begin a process of rehabilitation that will culminate in attracting people of quality who will help pull us completely out of the mire and onto the firm footing of an ethics-based worldview.
It’s not about becoming somebody new. It’s about getting back to the essence of our true selves. As the revered 19th century sage Rabbi Moses Sofer taught: We don’t need to change. We simply need to uncover who we really are.
This is what genuine leadership is all about. When we model commitment to pursuing excellence in our work and in our character, we can’t help but inspire those around us to expect more from ourselves as well. As they set their own bar higher, the resulting virtuous circle propels us in the continuous quest for ethical rehabilitation. By cultivating a collective vision of discipline and purpose, we organically create a more cohesive, more vibrant culture in which we can all thrive together.
