"Amazing Grace” is one of the most popular spiritual hymns, offering comfort in times of trouble. The history of its writing is a story of literally being saved from death, which then opens a new story. This tale is one  of prayers being answered. What have you got to lose?

The song was written by John Newton and tells his own story of being lost, and then found, saved by grace. Newton was born in London July 24, 1725, the son of a commander of a merchant ship which sailed the Mediterranean. When John was eleven, he went to sea with his father and made six voyages with him before the elder Newton retired. In 1744 John was impressed into service on a man-of-war, the H. M. S. Harwich. Finding conditions on board intolerable, he deserted but was soon recaptured, publicly flogged and demoted from midshipman to common seaman.

Finally, at his own request, he was exchanged into service on a slave ship, traveling to the coast of Sierra Leone. He then became the servant of a slave trader and was brutally abused. In 1748 he was rescued by a sea captain who had known John's father. Newton ultimately became captain of his own ship, which became involved in the slave trade.

He had had some early religious instruction from his mother, who had died when he was a child, but he had long since given up any religious convictions. However, on a voyage homeward, his ship ran into a violent storm.

While he was attempting to steer the ship, he experienced what he came to call his “great deliverance.” He recorded later in his journal that when all seemed lost and the ship would surely sink, he exclaimed, “Lord, have mercy upon us!”  Soon after, the ship and Newton were saved. He believed that God had brought him through the storm and that grace had begun to work for him.

For the rest of his life he observed the anniversary of May 10, 1748 as the day of his conversion, a day when he subjected his will to a higher power. He continued in the slave trade for a time after; however, he saw to it that the slaves under his care were treated humanely.

He gave up the seafaring life in 1755 after a serious illness. He had begun to educate himself during his days as a sailor, teaching himself Latin, among other subjects. He worked as surveyor of tides at Liverpool, where he came to know George Whitefield, evangelistic preacher and deacon in the Church of England. Newton became Whitefield’s enthusiastic disciple. During this period Newton also met John Wesley, founder of Methodism.

He decided to become a minister and applied to the Archbishop of York for ordination. The Archbishop refused his request, but Newton persisted in his goal, and he was subsequently ordained and accepted the curacy of Olney, Buckinghamshire. Newton’s church became so crowded during services that it had to be enlarged.

In 1767 the poet William Cowper settled at Olney, and he and Newton became friends. Cowper helped Newton with his religious services and tours. They began a series of weekly prayer meetings, with the goal to write a new hymn for each one. They collaborated on several editions of Olney Hymns, which achieved lasting popularity. The first edition of 1779, contained 68 pieces by Cowper and 280 by Newton.

Composed probably between 1760 and 1770, “Amazing Grace” was possibly one of the hymns written for a weekly service, though it was not originally known by that title. Through the years, additional verses by other writers and possibly verses from other Newton hymns have been added. However, these are the six stanzas that appeared in the first edition in 1779. The origin of the melody is unknown; however, the Bill Moyers special on “Amazing Grace” speculated that it may have originated as the tune of a song the slaves sang.

In 1780 Newton left Olney to become rector of St. Mary Woolnoth in London. Again, he drew large congregations and influenced many, among them William Wilberforce, who would one day become a leader in the campaign for the abolition of slavery. Newton continued to preach until the last year of life, although he was blind by that time. He died in London December 21, 1807.

Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound)
That sav’d a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears reliev’d;
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believ’d!

Thro’ many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
’Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promis’d good to me,
His word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease;
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, who call’d me here below,
Will be forever mine.
 
References: 
Amazing Grace:  The Story of John Newton by Al Rogers,  July-August 1996 issue of “Away Here in Texas”.
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Today is that auspicious date, Groundhog Day.  According to tradition, if a groundhog comes out of its burrow on this day and sees its shadow, it gets scared and runs back inside, predicting six more weeks of winter weather; no shadow means an early spring.  It’s also the title of a profound spiritual film. You might think I’m kidding, but I’m not.  Seemingly trivial, both the film and the date have many layers of significance. And not just because it’s my birthday. 

In the film Groundhog Day, writer Danny Rubin and co-writer and director Harold created a powerful spiritual parable, wrapped in a subtle comedy. Hundreds of spiritual leaders from many faiths have used it to illustrate talks, classes, talks, workshops, and panels. The theme is like A Christmas Carol, a tale of redemption and transformation when a selfish man learns to open to his heart and other people. Here, it’s also very funny, which helps transmit the message to enjoy on many levels.

In the movie, Bill Murray plays Phil Connors, an arrogant Pittsburgh weather forecaster, absorbed in his own discomforts and oblivious to other people. With his producer Rita and cameraman Larry, he goes on assignment to cover the annual Groundhog Day festival in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania.  Here, "Punxsutawney Phil" — a real groundhog — comes out of his hole to reveal how much longer winter will last. Connors believes he's too good for the assignment, and for Punxsutawney or Pittsburgh; he’s on his way to bigger things.  

He wakes up in his bed-and-breakfast the next morning to the announcer exclaiming, “It’s Groundhog Day!” and Sonny and Cher singing “I got you, Babe.”  He covers the story at the festival on Gobbler’s Knob, and, in true Bill Murray style, deadpans, “This is one time where television really fails to capture the true excitement of a large squirrel predicting the weather”.  He leaves after the story to head home as soon as possible, but unfortunately, a blizzard stops him at the outskirts of town. A state trooper explains that the highway is closed, asking "Don't you watch the weather?”

Reluctantly returning to Punxsutawney, Connors spends another night in the bed-and-breakfast run by the sort of un-hip folks he considers hicks. The next morning, the clock radio in his room goes off and he hears again the voices of Sonny and Cher. At first, he thinks it's a mistake by the hick radio station. But slowly he discovers it really is the same day all over again. Everything that happened to him the previous day -- the man talking to him on the stairs, the high school acquaintance stopping him on the street, the ritual of the groundhog -- it all happens again. And, once again, due to the weather, he is forced to spend the night. When he wakes up the next morning, it is the same day again, with the same groundhog festival and oncoming snowstorm.

And on it goes, day after day, like a broken record as Phil finds himself trapped in what seems to be a time loop. But he finds if he changes his behavior, people will respond to his new actions. This perception opens all kinds of possibilities for playing with the unfolding of events. With each "new" day, he alone remembers what happened in previous editions of the same day. At first Murray's character responds with bewilderment. Then he begins to indulge his adolescent self. He shoves cigarettes and pastries into his face with no fear of love-handles or lung cancer. He goes on a drunk-driving spree. He uses his ability to glean intelligence about the locals to seduce women.

As the days pass endlessly into the same day, Phil develops somewhat of a purpose in life: learning everything he can about Rita, so he can pretend to be her ideal man and seduce her. When that fails, and his efforts net him slap after slap, day after day, his despair deepens, and it’s no longer fulfilling to answer the Jeopardy questions before Alex Trebek can ask them. He begins to try to kill himself.  He takes a plugged-in toaster into the bath, jumps off a building, and drives off a cliff with a kidnapped Punxsutawney Phil at the wheel.  But not even death can free him: he continues to wake up in the morning to Sonny and Cher.  

In desperation, he reveals his plight to Rita, and she stays with him.  They sleep together – literally fall asleep together. Once again, he wakes up alone in the same day. But, enriched by this experience of intimacy, and because someone does seem to actually like him for who he is, he finally figures out a constructive response. As groundhog Phil sees his shadow, the man Phil was forced to confront his shadow self, all his negative aspects, and choose a different path. Slowly, he goes through a transformation.

Phil begins to live his life in the day allotted to him. He takes control of circumstances. He takes piano lessons. He reads poetry, at first to impress Rita, but then enjoys it.  He learns how to be an ice sculptor, the perfect art form since everything will have melted away when he wakes up. He also discovers that there are some things he cannot change. The homeless man whom Connors scorns at the beginning of the film becomes an obsession as the old man dies every day.  He calls him “pop,” buys him a meal every day, and tries to save him, but never can. His heart has been opened, and his compassion for the old man transfers to the living.

Now, he begins to use his knowledge of how the day will unfold to help people. Knowing that a child will always fall from a tree at a certain time, he is always there to catch him. Knowing that a man will choke on his meal, he is always at a nearby table in the restaurant to save him. He daily changes a tire for three elderly ladies. Once isolated from society, Phil becomes a beloved local hero. He sees the glass as half full and the day as a form of freedom.

As he expresses in a TV speech for the umpteenth ceremony of the coming out of the groundhog:  "When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. Standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter." 

By the end of the film, Connors is no longer obsessed with getting Rita. He's in love with her, without reservation or hope of his affection being requited. Finally, Rita falls in love with the good person he has become, and again they literally fall asleep together.  With her love, and when he blesses the day he has just lived, the day is taken from him. When he finally wakes on February 3rd, the great wheel of life is no longer stuck on Groundhog Day.

We might not experience the same day over and over – or do we?    Do our days sometime have a repetition of sameness, of same old themes and thoughts?  While many of us go semi-automatically through most of our (very similar) days, he is forced to stop and treat each day like a world onto itself and decide how to use it.  He comes to see that we’re here to do something more than just get through each day.  He wakes up, the beginning of all true spirituality.

This view of Punxsutawney is purgatory, from which Phil is released by shedding his selfishness and committing to acts of love.  But he doesn’t find redemption or liberation by turning away from the world.  He does the opposite, as he opens outward to community, to fellowship, to love the hicks and their values. In the end, he undergoes a breakthrough to a more authentic self in which intimacy, creativity and compassion come naturally - a self that was trapped inside him. What Phil slowly realizes is that what makes life worth living is not what you get from it, but what you put into it.

The film has been taken up by Jews, Catholics, Evangelicals, Hindus, Buddhists, Wiccans, and more. Countless professors use it to teach ethics and a host of philosophical approaches including deep existentialist themes. The New York’s Museum of Modern Art’s film series on "The Hidden God: Film and Faith" opened with Groundhog Day.
Many Buddhists champion the film as illustrating breaking free of samsara, the circle of birth and rebirth, when he surrenders his ego and begins to practice service to others. Phil exemplifies the bodhisattva, or awakened being, devoted to saving all sentient beings. Naturally this goal is impossible, yet it is also impossible for the bodhisattva, or Phil, to refuse the challenge.

Phil’s real success lies in breaking free, with freedom from his restricted personality and from his restricted day. As his wisdom deepens, Phil realizes that not all restrictions are oppressive. Some, like those of compassion and care, are the place of freedom itself.  What is so powerful about Groundhog Day is that it lets us experience what it would be like to make a breakthrough like this in our own lives.  When we move beyond resentment over our life conditions, engage with what we love, and connect with compassion to others, our lives become a more meaningful and rich experience.