Kim Atienza accepts priest's apology, calls depression remarks a chance to save lives

Kim Atienza, a television personality who has made mental health advocacy central to his public work, accepted a formal apology from Catholic priest Rev. Fr. Jowel Jomarsus P. Gatus after the priest's homily drew sharp criticism for the way it characterized depression. During the sermon, Fr. Gatus had drawn a comparison between people managing physical illnesses and those living with depression—a framing that struck many as reductive and potentially harmful. Atienza, whose voice carries particular weight on this subject, responded publicly to push back against the characterization, insisting that depression is a legitimate medical condition deserving of the same gravity and respect as any physical ailment.

What followed was a rare moment of institutional accountability. Fr. Gatus issued a public apology acknowledging that his words may have minimized the real struggles of people battling depression. He clarified that he had meant to encourage hope in his congregation, not to dismiss anyone's experience. More importantly, he conceded a fundamental point: depression cannot be overcome through willpower or gratitude alone. It is not a failure of faith or character. It is an illness.

Atienza's response, posted on Facebook, struck a tone of measured grace. He thanked the priest for the apology and for what it represented—not just a personal correction, but an opening for broader conversation. "Your statement opened a conversation that is timely and urgent," Atienza wrote. "Talking about it now saves young lives." The phrase carried the weight of lived experience. Atienza's youngest daughter, Emman, died by suicide in 2025. That loss has become the engine of his advocacy work, the reason he speaks publicly about mental health with an urgency that cannot be mistaken for mere professional interest.

In his post, Atienza also extended compassion to those who may have felt wounded by the priest's original remarks—people living with depression themselves, and families who have lost loved ones to the condition. He acknowledged that Fr. Gatus meant well, even as the impact of his words had been harmful. This balance between accountability and understanding is delicate work, and Atienza managed it with evident care. He was not seeking to destroy the priest's reputation or demand further penance. He was seeking to use the moment as a teaching tool.

Fr. Gatus went further still. In his apology, he extended his condolences to Atienza and his family over Emman's death, and he committed to approaching future homilies with greater sensitivity and compassion. It was a pledge to do better, to think more carefully about how language shapes the way people understand their own suffering.

The exchange, brief as it was, illuminates a larger problem that persists in many religious communities: the tendency to spiritualize mental illness in ways that can inadvertently shame or invalidate those experiencing it. Depression is not a lack of faith. Suicide is not a moral failure. These are truths that need to be stated plainly and often, especially in spaces where people gather to find meaning and hope. Atienza's willingness to engage constructively with Fr. Gatus, rather than simply condemn him, suggests a path forward—one where institutions listen, adjust, and commit to doing better. The conversation, as Atienza noted, is what matters. It is what saves lives.