The Gathering

At the top of the South Island there is a little strip of land called Golden Bay, beloved by many as a summer holiday destination. 

It is the land of the aging hippie, the homespun wool, new age environmentalists, artists and generally cool people.

Most people travel there via the road over the Takaka Hill, a wonderful limestone/marble mountain covered in weird rock formations and astounding holes. 

Over the summer the road it is sometimes almost bumper to bumper. It is the only sealed road into and out of Golden Bay.

Most people end up congregating in a few spots – Totaranui, Takaka etc – and meeting up with their neighbours from Christchurch. Often this is a planned gathering – to get together with old friends and share a few meals and some relaxed time.

One of the questions often asked when meeting a friend is “How was the trip over the hill?” If you ever heard the reply “We didn’t come over the hill” it would initially be met with something akin to disbelief, until the thought processes kicked in.

• ·         Perhaps they came in by ferry.
• ·         Perhaps they arrived by helicopter
• ·         Maybe they kayaked in
• ·         They could have walked across
• ·         They could have mountain biked or motor biked cross country

When you get right down to it there are heaps of ways to get to Golden Bay. It is just less common to arrive in those ways. Perhaps some of the journeys they took may even have been more fun than the one we took.

The key is that, whichever way we chose to get to Golden Bay, one way or another we all arrived for our gathering together. The path wasn’t the objective. I can’t judge whose path was the better one. The objective was to be together at “The gathering” (a little South Island, Golden Bay reference there).

In the Good Shepherd tale Jesus speaks of being the “gate” and the “shepherd”. He says the gate will open and the sheep will be called out by name into the waiting pasture. The pen is not the destination; the gate is not the destination; the shepherd is not the destination. The pasture is the destination.

Sometimes I think we spend a great dealing of time worrying about whether people have walked through the right gate; maybe even confusing the gate with the pasture.

“ I'm sorry, but I’m afraid that you simply can’t be in Golden Bay. You didn’t arrive by the road. I know it may seem like Golden Bay to you and, strangely, I also feel as if I can see you here, but I must be mistaken. There is after all only one road and, if you have not taken that road, then you are not here.”