There is so much I want to write about, especially as pertains to the past few months, but I barely know where to start. So I will begin, simply, with today.
The above photo was taken this morning, a few minutes before the gates opened at the Martha's Vineyard Refuse Disposal and Resource Recovery center (the dump).
I don't normally dump on a Thursday morning, but this week I had extra trash and recycling left over from my tenants. I meant to go yesterday but slept late and got distracted by other projects. Today I woke in time to pack my car - there's something quite satisfying about tending to one's own garbage, I find, aside from the monetary savings, that is - and even managed to be first in line for the dump's 8am opening. Not only did I not want to deal with long lines and the pre-Labor Day weekend crowd, I also wanted to be home in time to clean myself up and get to 9am mass.
Shortly before the gate was due to be opened I noticed the silhouette of the gate - I was facing east, into the morning sun - which, along with its shadow, created a shape that grabbed me (as a life-long photographer, I am probably more tuned in to light than most people, and I do love silhouettes). I knew that the gate would be opened momentarily and my chance to capture the image would be gone, so I quickly roused from my semi-conscious state, grabbed my phone, and got the above shot (love my phone camera).
As with many of my photos, it's only later that I notice deeper meanings within the image.
First - it's a great shot, if I do say so myself. "A great catch," as they say. It's symmetrical, balanced, and in focus.
Second - it's a powerful image; very strong. It's an unambiguous and unabashed cross.
Third - it's a little clever. Somehow, my half-awake eye saw beyond the obvious, beyond the somewhat annoying closed gate, and saw something bigger.
Good job!
There's more, though:
The frame and the mesh of the gate, along with its shadow, have created the shape of the cross, but the cross itself is empty and open. The chain hangs unattached and unlocked. The symbolism is obvious: life outside the cross (without Christ) is restricted, closed, fenced in; life inside the cross (with Christ) is clear and open; unlocked. There's freedom in the cross.
The question is, what caused me to see this cross in an ordinary steel gate while sitting in a car full of trash, half awake, listening to mindless-clap-trap-radio, literally moments before the dump-keeper roared up on his motorcycle and opened the gate for the day?
The answer is easy: God opened my eyes to see the cross. It was a gift.
A sub-text here could also be gleaned from the text of the Jewish High Holy Day services - coming up in just a couple of weeks - words that encapsulate the theme of the season: פתחו לי שערי צדק: (pitchu li, sha-arei tzeddek - open for me the gates of righteousness - and it continues: and I will enter in and give thanks). So, even though this is a world I have left behind, I am apparently still - subconsciously, at least - somewhat tuned in to the rhythm of the seasons (the fertile ground of the subconscious mind continues to fascinate me).
Message for today: know that the cross is inside me, and I am inside it, and even when things appear to not be going my way at the moment and when life seems to be closing in on me - remember that life with Christ is the clear and open path. And no matter how lonely and lost I feel at times on this journey, God is with me every minute and always shows me the way.
