“Two Grooms, One Altar: The Unforgettable Gay Wedding That Rocked Antipolo and the Filipino Faith”

Byline: A wedding in Antipolo became a defiant act of love, spirituality, and resistance—redefining what it means to say ‘I do’ in the Philippines.

On a warm afternoon in 2022, the hills of Antipolo shimmered under a golden sun. But it wasn’t the weather that would mark the day as unforgettable—it was the sound of two men, Jownie Reyes and Josh Prado Tupaz, standing at the altar, declaring their eternal love in a ceremony that stunned a nation.

There were tears, there were hymns, there was incense—and there was something else. Defiance. Joy. And perhaps, most shocking to some: God.

In a country where Catholicism is as deeply rooted as the mango trees, and where same-sex marriage remains illegal, Jownie’s and Josh’s wedding became a radical act—not just of love, but of resistance. It wasn’t merely two men marrying; it was a cultural and spiritual earthquake.

And the aftershocks are still being felt.

The Wedding That Shouldn’t Have Been

“I thought I would die without ever seeing this day,” said Jownie, tears falling as he clutched Josh’s hands beneath a veil of jasmine and white orchids. Around them, 120 guests held their breath inside a sunlit garden chapel. Some were family. Many were friends. A few were there out of sheer disbelief.

The ceremony was a blend of Catholic and Protestant rituals, presided over by a gay priest—a detail that sparked outrage in some religious circles and admiration in others. “It was important for us to honor both our spiritual roots,” Josh explained. “We grew up in faith. Why should we be forced to leave it behind to love each other?”

The couple’s decision to include both Catholic and Evangelical elements wasn’t just symbolic—it was political. It flew in the face of institutional dogma. It challenged centuries of exclusion. And it forced uncomfortable questions into the open: Who owns religion? Who decides who love is holy for?

“Grooms Declared Their Vows Through Tears”

The Economist described the ceremony with striking emotion: “Grooms declared their vows through tears.” The article captured what many in the LGBTQ+ community saw as a historic moment—a declaration that love, when made visible, loses its shame.

The vow exchange left not a single dry eye. “I promise to love you even when faith is questioned, even when the world says we shouldn’t,” Jownie said, voice cracking.

Josh responded with a trembling hand: “I have prayed for you, long before I knew your name. Today, God answers me with your love.”

A choir hummed “Amazing Grace.” Flower petals rained down. For a moment, time stood still.

Beyond Romance: A Symbol of Resistance

While weddings are often personal, this one was undeniably public. The ceremony, documented in photographs and livestreamed by friends, spread rapidly on social media. #JownJoshWedding trended across Filipino Twitter. A TikTok clip of their kiss—set against a gospel rendition of “Hallelujah”—garnered over 3 million views in 48 hours.

But the virality wasn’t just about aesthetics or novelty. It was about what the wedding represented: courage. Hope. And a challenge to an institution that has historically turned its back on queer people.

“It’s not just about being seen,” said Reina Lopez, a queer rights advocate who attended the wedding. “It’s about being seen in the very spaces we were told we’d never belong.”

A Priest, A Protest, and a Blessing

Perhaps the most surprising figure in the entire event was the officiant—a soft-spoken, openly gay Catholic priest named Father Miguel (whose real name was withheld for his safety). “I didn’t do this to cause scandal,” he said in a post-wedding interview. “I did this because love is holy.”

Though the Vatican has long maintained its stance that marriage is a union between a man and a woman, there is growing internal debate, particularly in progressive Filipino enclaves. Some clergymen, like Father Miguel, are quietly redefining the lines.

“I believe Jesus wouldn’t have turned them away,” he said simply. “So neither will I.”

Not everyone shared his view.

The Backlash Arrives

Within days, conservative Catholic groups issued statements condemning the ceremony as “blasphemous” and “dangerous.” Anonymous threats flooded Father Miguel’s inbox. A local bishop released a terse statement, calling the event “deeply troubling” and “not representative of the Catholic Church.”

Josh’s uncle, a deacon in their hometown parish, did not attend. “This isn’t marriage,” he was quoted as saying. “It’s theatre.”

But others saw something sacred. “I’ve done over 200 weddings,” said videographer Lena Sarte. “This is the first time I felt the presence of something divine.”

The Legal Limbo

Same-sex marriage remains illegal in the Philippines, where efforts to pass civil union legislation have repeatedly stalled in Congress. Though some cities have made progress—offering symbolic partnerships and ID recognition—there is no national protection for queer unions.

So while Jownie and Josh are married in the eyes of their community, their love has no legal recognition. No tax benefits. No inheritance rights. No hospital visitation guarantees.

“It hurts,” said Jownie. “But our love is real. Paper or not.”

Still, the couple remains optimistic. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow,” Josh said. “But this wedding is a seed. And seeds grow.”

A New Theology of Love

Perhaps most revolutionary was how the wedding reimagined theology. Not as a system of exclusion, but of radical inclusion. Faith was not abandoned—it was reclaimed.

Every symbol in the ceremony was intentional. The unity candle? Lit by two mothers. The communion? Open to all. The homily? Focused on the universality of grace.

“This is what church could be,” said 19-year-old Luis Mariano, a queer teen who traveled from Davao to attend. “For once, I saw people like me… not just allowed, but celebrated.”

After the Altar

Now living together in Quezon City, Jownie and Josh continue their advocacy for LGBTQ+ rights. Their wedding has inspired similar ceremonies, with at least three queer couples reaching out for guidance.

They plan to launch a podcast—Sacred & Queer—to explore spirituality, sexuality, and identity in modern Filipino life.

“We’re not just trying to get married,” said Josh. “We’re trying to change what marriage means.”

The Final Word

In the end, their love may not change doctrine. It may not shift policy overnight. But it has done something harder—it has moved hearts.

And maybe that’s how revolutions begin: not with laws, but with love.

“We didn’t break tradition,” said Jownie, smiling as he looked through their wedding photos. “We expanded it.”