01/07/2025
There is something quietly troubling that happens in many Filipino Catholic communities—a kind of sideways glance, a smirk, or even a joke at the expense of those who try to live their faith more intentionally. You’ve probably seen it.
A man genuflects properly when passing before the tabernacle, and someone mutters, “Eh di ikaw na” (“Fine, you win”). A young woman dresses in her Sunday best for Mass and is greeted with, “Uy, may lakad ka ba pagkatapos—sa airport ba?” (“Hey, do you have a flight after this—are you headed to the airport?”). Someone reverently bows their head at the name of Jesus during the Gloria, and others roll their eyes. A catechist learns the Pater Noster or the Salve Regina, and people whisper, “Feeling trad. Pre-Vatican II.”
This attitude, whether joking or critical, has a name: “piety-shaming”. And it’s more widespread than we like to admit. In the Filipino setting—where pakikisama (the need to get along with others) and hiya (a sense of social shame or embarrassment) often shape how we act in public—doing anything that sets you apart can make people uncomfortable. That includes acts of piety. Bowing, kneeling, dressing modestly, or praying in Latin can be seen not as ordinary Catholic expressions of faith, but as showing off, being “too religious,” or “nagpapakitang-tao” (“just putting on a show”).
But here’s the hard truth: many of these small acts of devotion are not “extra.” They are, in fact, expected. The Church asks all Catholics to genuflect before the Blessed Sacrament. It encourages reverence in posture and attire, especially at Mass. Bowing at the name of Jesus isn’t “for the holy-holy” (banal-banalan)—it’s rooted in Sacred Scripture itself: “At the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth” (Philippians 2:10).
Even Latin prayers—which some dismiss as outdated—are still part of the Church’s living liturgical heritage. Vatican II never abolished Latin; in fact, it reaffirmed its use. The Church encourages the faithful to know the basic prayers in Latin if possible. This is not rigid traditionalism—it is faithfulness to the universality of the Church.
So why do so many Catholics feel awkward or ashamed when trying to practise what the Church actually teaches? Because piety has become countercultural—even within Catholic culture. In many parishes, reverence has been replaced by familiarity, and casualness mistaken for authenticity. We’ve become used to a faith that asks nothing of us—no silence, no fasting, no kneeling, no sacrifice. So when someone dares to kneel or dress with intention, their actions seem exaggerated. But the truth is, they only look exaggerated because we’ve grown so used to doing the bare minimum.
And this attitude is not only directed toward the laity. Sadly, even priests who take the liturgy seriously—those who wear the full proper vestments, who chant the prayers of the Mass, or who include a touch of Latin as permitted—are sometimes whispered about. “Masado siyang magarbo mag-Misa.” (“He celebrates Mass too grandly.”) Others say, “Nagpapaka-tradisyonal, baka gustong mag-Tridentine.” (“He’s acting too traditional—maybe he wants the Tridentine Mass.”) But these priests are not deviating—they are obeying the rubrics of the Church. They are trying to elevate the faithful through beauty and reverence, not themselves.
And yet, in our heart of hearts, many of us still feel a pull toward the sacred. When we see someone making the sign of the cross slowly and meaningfully, or hear someone chant “Salve Regina” with devotion, a part of us is stirred. We might not understand it fully—but we know it points to something higher, something holy. Rather than mock what we do not yet understand, we ought to ask: “Why does this make me uncomfortable? Could it be that someone else’s devotion is gently reminding me of what I’ve forgotten? Or calling me to something deeper?”
Let us not become the kind of Catholics who shame others for taking the faith seriously. The Church needs more visible witnesses of reverence—not fewer. She needs Catholics who dress not for fashion but for the Lord, who bow not for show but out of love, who learn sacred language not out of pride but humility. If someone is praying with their whole body, or dressing with modesty, or taking care to show respect in God’s house, they are not “trying too hard.” They are trying to love better. And that should never be a source of shame. It should be a cause for joy.
Instead of saying, “Nagpapakabanal ka masyado” (“You’re acting too holy”), we should be saying, “Paano ko rin mapapalalim ang pananampalataya ko?” (“How can I also deepen my faith?”) Because in the end, Catholicism was never meant to be a private, invisible feeling. It is a public, sacramental, embodied way of life.
So the next time you see someone making an act of reverence, don’t scoff. Thank God. Let it awaken your soul. Let it remind you that holiness is not about drawing attention to ourselves—but paying attention to Him.
