I didn't think I wanted very much. I simply needed a lightbulb to replace the blown-out bulb in the utility room of the hospital ward where I was the charge nurse that night, years ago. I quickly discovered that this procedure was not my territory. Lightbulb-changing belonged to the maintenance department — not the nurses! I dutifully submitted a requisition. Next evening, I gratefully returned to a lit-up utility room.

Interestingly, our territorial bent spilled into staff lunchbreak arrangements. Registered nurses ate at one table, nurses' aides ate at another table, janitors at another, doctors had their own room, and I can't remember where maintenance ate.

Indisputably, our lives are anchored by our territorial bent, sometimes for good reasons. It helps us to know where and how we fit in. It fulfills our legitimate need for belonging and affirmation.

However, this territorial bent can restrict our human potential. We are less inclined to solve problems outside of our own territory. We resist others from doing what's our job. We may alienate the undeserving or overlook the outsider, and within our likeminded group, it feels right. Thus, unbeknownst to us, our capacity to love becomes rigid and deficient, violating God's supreme law: "Love your neighbor as yourself." (Luke 10:27b NIV)

One day, Jesus noticed this deficiency among His listeners. To help them discover this blind spot in themselves, He told a little story, the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10:25-37. It tells how a priest and a Levite each intentionally walk past an assaulted victim lying in the ditch. A Samaritan traveller comes along and accomplishes what they both fail to do, even though they have the capacity. He assesses the situation, plans a strategy, and provides first aid. His donkey becomes ambulance service. He arranges care at a nearby lodging, covers the cost, and promises to follow up. That's astonishing!

More astonishingly, this Samaritan expects no praise or renumeration, for the person he helps is Jewish, from enemy territory! Meanwhile, the victim's own socio-religious authorities have deprived one of their own from even minimal care. They abandon him! How has this victim in the ditch fallen outside the territory of their moral responsibility?

That question confronts us all. Humanity overflows with a capacity for good, yet is littered with abandoned victims incapacitated by woundings for which no one claims responsibility. Who will be a good Samaritan to them? Who will give of themselves, regardless of the cost to their dignity, comfort, or even their lives? Who is fully free to love as Jesus commanded, saying, "Love each other as I have loved you." (John 15:12b NIV)

Who can? No one! C.S. Lewis underscores that truth in Mere Christianity, saying, "The main thing we learn from a serious attempt to practice the Christian virtues is that we fail. … No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good."

Thus, as fallen sinners, we are the wounded victim in the ditch. Here we discover our one common territory, and Christ is our Good Samaritan. His mercy has no territorial limits.

Prayer: Lord, empower us with Your healing love which alone can overcome our territorial bent. Amen.

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About the author:

Diane Eaton <dianeeaton6@gmail.com>
Paisley, Ontario, Canada
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