St. Ann Church's Cross is back after a year and a half!

“Thank you to all who came together in time, talent, and treasure to make Walk With Mary a glorious day honoring our Blessed Mother. May Mary continue to hold our collaborative community in her loving care.”

Mike, a teenager, walks into a little shop on the South Shore and spots a teenage girl browsing the beauty aisle. Outside the store is a shiny motorbike. He thinks, that is my opening. He walks over, trying his best to look confident, and says, “Hi gorgeous. I’m Mike, the owner of that new bike outside.” The girl looks at him skeptically. “Oh, really? Do you know who I am?” “No,” he says. She smiles proudly. “I’m the sheriff’s daughter.” Suddenly, the boy realizes this might be a much bigger conversation than he expected. But he is determined to impress her because, truthfully, Mike is not really interested in the bike; he is hoping she will be interested in him and agree to go on a date. Trying to keep his cool, he asks, “Well, do you know who I am?” She shakes her head. “No.” Mike gives a nervous smile and says, “Thank God!” Then he runs away. Apparently, his plan to impress her with a bike worked perfectly except for one tiny problem: it was not even his! Sometimes the best thing we can say is, “I know who I am.” But today’s Gospel asks us a much deeper question-not about our social status, our family name, our job, our house, our bank account, or the car sitting in our driveway. Jesus asks: “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And then He makes it personal: “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answers: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” That answer changes everything. Because once we know who Jesus is, we begin to understand who we are. Our world spends enormous energy asking us to build an identity. My brothers and sisters, we are told our identity comes from our families, our accomplishments, our possessions, our appearance, our education, our political opinions, our social standing, or what other people think about us. But Jesus gives us something deeper. At our Baptism, we received an identity that no job can give us, no failure can take away, and no human opinion can destroy. We are children of God. We are fearfully and wonderfully made. We are created in the image and likeness of God. That is our identity. And the question is not simply, “Do we know that?” The question is: Do we live like we know it? Who are we at home? Do the people closest to us recognize us as children of God? Who are we at work? Who are we when someone makes us angry? Who are we when we are sitting in traffic on Route 3? Who are we when we get disappointed? Who are we when somebody takes the parking space we were patiently waiting for? And perhaps the most important question: Who are we when nobody is watching? Because it is easy to look like a Christian in church. But Jesus wants to know whether Christ lives in us when we leave church. Our identity as God’s children should follow us into our kitchens, our workplaces, our cars, our friendships, our marriages, our families, our conversations, and even into those private moments when nobody else knows what we are thinking or doing. Sometimes we forget who we are. Sometimes our actions contradict our identity. Sometimes we hurt people, lose our patience, hold grudges, speak words we wish we could take back, or choose somethings we know are not worthy of a child of God. But here is the beautiful thing about our faith: God does not abandon us when we forget who we are. He calls us back. He calls us through the Sacrament of Reconciliation. He says, “Come home.” And then He brings us to another table. The Master’s Table. Here, Jesus does not merely remind us who He is. He gives Himself to us. In the Most Holy Eucharist, we receive the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ-the Son of the living God. The same Jesus whom Peter recognized. The same Jesus who calls Peter the rock. The same Jesus who knows our weaknesses and still chooses us. He says to us: “Come to my table.” And perhaps today Jesus is asking every one of us: “Whom do you say that I am?” Not just with our lips. Not just in the Creed. But with our lives. And then another question follows: “Whom do you say that you are?” You are not merely your mistakes. You are not your failures. You are not your possessions. You are not what somebody said about you yesterday. You are a beloved child of God. Brother! Sister! By Baptism, we are called to be priests, prophets, and kings, bringing Christ into the world wherever we go. So, brothers and sisters, let us remember our identity. When we leave this church today, let us carry Christ with us. Let our families recognize Him in us. Let our neighbors recognize Him in us. Let our coworkers recognize Him in us. And when we are alone, may we still remember who we are. Because the world may ask, “Who are you?” And our answer can simply be: “I am a child of God.” And when Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” May our lives answer: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And then, at the Master’s Table, may we receive Him, carry Him, and never forget that He has chosen to make His dwelling within us. May it ever be so. Amen, Amen.

There is a particular kind of persistence we know very well here on the South Shore. Anyone who has ever tried to find parking in Hull on a beautiful summer weekend knows what I mean. We drive around the block once. Nothing. Twice. Still nothing. Three times, and suddenly we begin praying prayers we have not prayed since Lent! And then, just when we are ready to give up, a car pulls out. We say, “Thank you, Lord!” Sometimes faith looks a little like that: we keep going even when the answer doesn’t come immediately.