The Year Without a Summer

This week, the weather has been hitting the headlines. As the quote from the Book of Ecclesiastes reminds us, “there is nothing new under the sun”, except for the headlines being written in 1816, when the new occurrence was that there seemingly was no sun.

“I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars did wander darkling in the eternal space.” Written in July 1816, these words from Byron's poem Darkness are inspired by the strange events of The year Without a Summer. It followed the eruption of Mount Tambora (the largest recorded volcanic eruption in history) located in modern day Indonesia, which in turn sparked months of unusual weather and climate disruption around the globe as its large dust cloud of volcanic ash entered the atmosphere. During this period, the sun frequently disappeared behind that thick acrid cloud. Instead of summer, the winter temperatures continued. Some thought the strange climate signaled the imminent destruction of the sun and the end of the world. We know of course now that though the dark uncertainty might have felt never-ending in 1816, the world did not in fact end. The world kept on spinning, and eventually the cloud dissipated and the sun reemerged. One of the most notable things about The Year Without a Summer is the number of seminal works of art, music and literature that it produced. It was around this time that Beethoven began his celebrated late period of composition, Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, and Byron his epic poem Prometheus, as well as many other successful endeavors.

Just as it did that fateful summer 200 years ago, beauty continues to emerge from uncertainty. We have our own metaphorical clouds of darkness and uncertainty brooding around the world today, and yet gimmers of sunlight shine forth brightly amidst that darkness. The light of hope continues to shine as we engage with others and when we choose respect rather than incivility; unity rather than division; love over hate. The hope spoken of in the teachings of Jesus – while not denying fear and uncertainty – requires the believer to look beyond present circumstances and instead to choose to have faith in a better future. As 14th century christian mystic, Julian of Norwich, put it: “All shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” But hope is not a lottery ticket. Nor is it blind or passive optimism. It is the firm belief that we can each dispel the clouds of darkness by working together in love.

Author Info: Andrew Moore

Chaplain Andrew is the Associate Chaplain here at the Campus. Before relocating to Arizona in 2014, Andrew lived and studied in the United Kingdom. Andrew was ordained in the Anglican Church and has worked in a variety of parishes.