January 18th, 2026: Have Mercy on Me

Christ Stops for the Cry of the Needy

On Sunday, January 18, 2026, His Grace Bishop Gerasim of Fort Worth visited our parish of St. Mary Magdalene Orthodox Church and served the Hierarchal Divine Liturgy. In his homily, he connected two things that belong together: the Orthodox confession of who Jesus Christ is, and the Gospel story of how Jesus heals the blind man near Jericho.

He began by reminding us that this day also falls near the commemoration of great saints who defended the faith, especially Saint Athanasius the Great. Athanasius lived in a time when many people said confusing things about Jesus. Some spoke as if Christ were less than God. Others spoke as if He only looked human. Athanasius fought for the truth that the Church still proclaims: Jesus Christ is fully God and fully man, one Person, the Son of God who became man for our salvation.

This matters because the Gospel is not only a list of moral lessons. The Gospel is the story of what God has done for the world in Jesus Christ. If we misunderstand who Christ is, we will misunderstand what He is doing when He heals, when He teaches, when He suffers, and when He rises from the dead.

Bishop Gerasim shared words from one of Saint Athanasius’ writings, showing how the fathers of the Church read Scripture with care. In the Gospel, Jesus sometimes speaks in a way that shows His true humanity. He asks questions. He weeps. He grows tired. He hungers. But the same Jesus also acts with divine power. He forgives sins. He raises the dead. He commands the storm. He opens blind eyes. These are not two different persons. It is the one Lord Jesus Christ, acting in a fully human way and a fully divine way, without confusion and without division.

With that foundation, the bishop turned to the Gospel reading from Saint Luke about the blind man near Jericho. Jericho is an ancient city near the Jordan River. Jesus passes through it on His way toward Jerusalem, near the time of His saving Passion. Along the roadside sits a man who is blind, begging. People see him as a background character. He is there every day. He is easy to ignore. He is the kind of person many walk past without thinking.

But this man hears a crowd passing by. He asks what is happening. They tell him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” The blind man has been sitting there long enough to hear many stories. Even without sight, he has heard that Jesus heals. He has heard that Jesus teaches with authority. He has heard that some say He is the Messiah.

So the blind man does something bold. He cries out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” This is not a polite request. It is a desperate cry. It is also a confession of faith. Calling Jesus “Son of David” is not only a compliment. It points to the promise that the Messiah would come from the line of David. The blind man is saying, “You are the promised King. You are the One sent by God.”

The crowd tries to silence him. People often do this in subtle ways. They may not shout at us. They may just make us feel foolish. They may tell us we are being dramatic. They may say we should keep our struggles private. But the blind man does not accept their judgment. He keeps calling out.

Then something beautiful happens. Jesus stops.

In the middle of a busy road, with a crowd moving, Christ comes to a halt for one poor man that others want to ignore. This is a picture of the compassion of God. The Lord is never too important to notice the lowly. The Lord is never too hurried to hear the cry of the suffering. The Lord is never too distracted to be present to the needy.

Jesus commands that the man be brought to Him. And then Jesus asks a question that may seem strange at first: “What do you want me to do for you?”

It is not that Jesus does not know. It is that Jesus draws the man into a clear and honest request. The blind man must speak. He must name what he needs. He must bring his desire into the light.

And the man answers with the most important words of his life: “Lord, let me receive my sight.”

At that moment, the begging becomes something else. This was never only about money. This was about a whole life that had been reduced to survival. This was about a person created in the image of God, now being restored. This was about dignity. This was about salvation.

Jesus answers, “Receive your sight; your faith has saved you.” The man is healed. And he immediately follows Jesus, glorifying God. He does not treat the miracle like a quick fix. He does not say, “Thanks, now I will go live my life.” His healing becomes a turning point. He becomes a disciple.

Bishop Gerasim drew our attention to that last part. The miracle is not complete when the eyes open. The miracle is complete when the heart follows.

The Healing We Ask For Is Bigger Than We Think

The bishop then applied this Gospel to our lives in a direct and pastoral way. Many of us carry pain, fear, or affliction. We want it to stop right now. We want relief. We want answers. We want a quick solution. And when we do not get what we want, we can become angry, bitter, or confused.

But the Gospel shows that Christ’s care is deeper than our first request. The blind man begins as someone asking for mercy, which could mean many things. He might have been asking for coins. He might have been asking for help from the crowd. But when Christ stops and asks him plainly, the man asks for sight.

This is a pattern for us too. At first, we pray from our surface pain. We pray from discomfort. We pray from panic. We pray from exhaustion. But as we stand before Christ, we begin to see that there may be something deeper that needs healing.

Sometimes the worst thing in our life is not the pain we feel. Sometimes it is the sin we tolerate. Sometimes it is the habit that is slowly hardening our heart. Sometimes it is the anger we keep feeding. Sometimes it is the pride that will not let us be corrected. Sometimes it is the despair that tells us prayer is pointless.

Christ does not ignore our suffering. He is the physician of souls and bodies. But He also loves us too much to leave us unchanged. He heals in a way that leads to salvation. He heals in a way that makes us capable of following Him.

Bishop Gerasim offered simple guidance that is easy to remember and hard to practice, which is often the best kind. He encouraged us to compare our pain with the suffering of others. Not to shame ourselves, but to regain perspective. Are we facing something truly unbearable, or are we mainly uncomfortable? Have we become impatient and small in our view of life?

He also encouraged us not to stop calling out to Jesus. The blind man was mocked. He was told to be quiet. But he cried out anyway. This persistence is not stubbornness. It is faith. It is a refusal to accept hopelessness as the final word.

And he reminded us that sometimes the first healing we need is not the one we are demanding. Sometimes there is something far worse in our life than our temporary pain. Sometimes Christ is inviting us to repent first, to change direction, to lay down a sin, to forgive someone, to confess, to return to prayer, to return to humility. When that happens, we find that we can bear the rest with more peace.

The story ends with the healed man following Jesus and glorifying God. The bishop painted a powerful picture of what that could mean. If this man followed Jesus toward Jerusalem, then he would witness much more than his own miracle. He would see the Lord welcomed with branches. He would see the Lord rejected and mocked. He would see the Cross. He would hear the words of Christ. He would come to understand more deeply who Jesus truly is.

And this helps us see the goal of every healing. God does not only want to improve our comfort. He wants to draw us into the Kingdom. He wants to open our eyes so we can see Him, trust Him, and follow Him.

In the Orthodox life, we often say that Christ is the physician of souls and bodies. That is not poetry. It is truth. He heals the body, and He heals the heart. He heals what is visible, and He heals what is hidden. He heals in ways that take time, because love is patient. And He heals so that we can become disciples who glorify God with our whole lives.

On this day, we gave thanks for our bishop’s visit and for his word to us. We also heard again the cry that the Church has carried for centuries: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.” This is not only the prayer of a blind beggar. It is the prayer of every Christian who wants to see clearly.

May the Lord grant us the courage to keep calling out to Him, the humility to ask for the healing we truly need, and the grace to follow Him with joy.