As a practicing Catholic, I believe in the power of public witness, the beauty of Eucharistic devotion and the transforming love of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. But I also believe in the power of nuance, the necessity of compassion and the quiet authority of listening before speaking.
So when I saw recent events and headlines announcing a “Humility March” to counter the LGBTQ+ celebration of Pride Month in the Philippines — framed explicitly as a Catholic act of reparation — I found myself unsettled. Not because I question the sincerity of those who joined. But because I wonder whether, in our eagerness to stand for truth, we may have forgotten how Jesus Himself chose to walk with it.
Let me be clear: The vice of pride that Jesus condemned — the arrogance of the Pharisees, the self-glorifying heart that refuses correction — is real. It is spiritually deadly. But Pride Month is not rooted in that sin. At its core, Pride is not about superiority. It is about survival.
It was born from the cries of those who were silenced, marginalized, and persecuted. It is, at its best, a human plea: “See us. Let us live with dignity. Let us love without shame.” Not all its expressions are easy to understand, and not all are beyond critique. But if we respond to that plea with a counter-march labeled “humility,” we risk misrepresenting not just the LGBTQ+ community—but Christ Himself.
Because Jesus never hosted a counter-event when He encountered people on the margins.
He never said, “I’ll walk over here to show you what holiness looks like.”
Instead, He went to the home of Zacchaeus.
He sat at the well with the Samaritan woman.
He allowed the sinful woman to weep at His feet, and He did not recoil.
He did not lead a protest against the hurting.
He drew close.
He loved first.
Yes, Catholics should walk in humility. But true humility doesn’t position itself against the cries of a people seeking worth. It does not carry itself as moral spectacle. It kneels. It listens. It loves with truth and tenderness.
When we organize processions framed as “alternatives” to Pride, what message are we sending? That one group’s pursuit of dignity must be met with our correction? That the Sacred Heart desires reparation — but not relationship?
I believe in reparation. I believe in the power of the Eucharist to heal all wounds, including those caused by moral confusion or cultural drift. But I also believe that the greater scandal in this moment is the deep alienation felt by many LGBTQ+ persons toward the very Church that proclaims Christ’s universal love. That alienation cannot be healed by marches. It can only be healed by mercy, presence, and dialogue.
If we as Catholics are truly concerned for the salvation of souls, we must begin by asking:
Have we earned the right to be heard, by first loving well?
Do we speak to people, or only about them?
Do our actions reflect the Sacred Heart — wounded, open, and overflowing with mercy?
To our LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters: If you have ever felt judged, rejected, or unseen by the Church, please hear this—The Sacred Heart of Jesus still beats for you. You are not beyond His love. And we, your fellow pilgrims, are still learning how to love like Him.
Let us not turn June into a battleground of symbols. Let us instead recover what both Pride and humility, at their best, seek: the restoration of dignity and the call to walk in truth.
The world does not need more counter-marches.
It needs more encounters — holy, honest and human.
And if we are to reflect the Heart of Christ, we must learn not only to defend the truth — but to let that truth bend low and love well.