In a world where personal faith journeys often intersect with public personas, ABC News anchor Gio Benítez's recent confirmation into the Catholic Church has sparked both celebration and controversy. On November 10, 2025, the 40-year-old journalist—best known for co-anchoring Good Morning America and his role as a transportation correspondent—took a significant step in his spiritual life. Joined by his husband of nine years, Tommy DiDario, Benítez was confirmed at the Church of St. Paul the Apostle in Manhattan, marking the culmination of a decades-long path back to the faith he first encountered as a teenager.
Benítez, who came out as gay in 2013 and married DiDario in a vibrant ceremony in Miami, shared the intimate moment on Instagram with poetic reflection: “I found the Ark of the Covenant in my heart, stored there by the one who created me… exactly as I am.” His post detailed a journey of doubt, self-discovery, and eventual embrace of what he calls “God’s loving mercy is unconditional.” Inspired by the late Pope Francis's outreach to LGBTQ+ individuals—famously encapsulated in his 2013 remark, “Who am I to judge?”—Benítez credited the pontiff's legacy of inclusivity for drawing him back. DiDario, serving as his official sponsor, stood by his side, a visible symbol of their partnership in this sacred rite. Prominent Jesuit priest Father James Martin, a vocal advocate for LGBTQ+ Catholics, welcomed Benítez with a simple yet affirming “Welcome!” on social media.
For Benítez, raised in a Catholic family in Florida, this wasn't a blind leap but a return. Baptized at 15 alongside his mother, he drifted during college years spent studying religion and grappling with his identity. A recent GMA segment featuring Martin discussing Francis's impact reignited his pursuit, leading to months of preparation under supportive church leaders. Attended by a close circle of family and friends, the Mass evoked ghosts of loved ones past—grandparents who taught him to pray, aunts and uncles who modeled grace. “Loving freely fulfills the Kingdom of God,” Benítez wrote, quoting a mentor's invocation of Christ's command to “Love. One. Another.”
On the surface, it's an inspiring story of reconciliation: a high-profile gay man finding home in a Church often accused of alienation. Benítez's narrative aligns with a growing chorus of progressive voices within Catholicism, emphasizing pastoral mercy over doctrinal rigidity. Father Martin's endorsement underscores this shift, positioning Benítez's confirmation as a testament to Francis's reforms—from using the word “gay” in official documents to decriminalizing homosexuality globally and hosting transgender pilgrims at the Vatican.
Yet, beneath the warm glow of affirmation lies a tangle of tensions that raise serious questions about optics, fidelity to Church teaching, and the specter of scandal. While Benítez's personal joy is undeniable, the public framing of his entry—complete with spousal sponsorship and social media fanfare—exposes fault lines in the Catholic approach to sexual ethics that could undermine the very institution it seeks to reform.
Optics: A PR Win for Progressives, a Stumble for the Church?
In the age of viral faith stories, Benítez's confirmation is tailor-made for feel-good headlines. As an openly gay celebrity, his embrace of Catholicism sends a powerful message: the Church is evolving, welcoming the marginalized without demanding conformity. DiDario's role as sponsor—traditionally a guide in faith formation—amplifies this, portraying same-sex marriage not as a barrier but a bridge to sacraments. It's a optics coup for advocates like Martin, who argue that Francis's papacy did more for LGBTQ+ inclusion than all predecessors combined. Benítez himself ties his story to the Pope's “progressive views,” leveraging Francis's soundbites to rebrand Catholicism as a haven for the “exactly as I am” crowd.
But flip the lens, and the picture sours. To traditionalists, this isn't evolution—it's erosion. Publicly celebrating a same-sex union in the heart of a confirmation rite risks signaling that the Church endorses what it officially deems disordered. Benítez's Instagram post, with its emphasis on unconditional love sans repentance, reads less like humble submission and more like triumphant self-validation. In a media-saturated era, where Benítez's 100,000+ followers amplify every update, the Church of St. Paul the Apostle now stands as a backdrop for what critics call “designer Catholicism”—pick-and-choose piety that prioritizes personal branding over communal doctrine. The optics? A progressive PR blitz that leaves conservatives feeling gaslit, wondering if mercy has morphed into license.
Church Teaching: Mercy Without the Call to Conversion?
At its core, Benítez's story clashes with longstanding Catholic doctrine on homosexuality, as outlined in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC 2357-2359). The Church teaches that homosexual acts are “intrinsically disordered” and gravely sinful, calling those with same-sex attractions to chastity and self-mastery as paths to holiness. While it affirms the dignity of every person—gay or straight—intimate same-sex relations fall outside this framework, much like adultery or fornication. Pope Francis echoed this in Amoris Laetitia (2016), upholding the indissolubility of marriage while urging pastoral accompaniment for the irregular.
Benítez's journey, however, seems to sidestep this tension. His reflections center on divine acceptance of his created self, including his marriage, without mention of celibacy or amendment. DiDario's sponsorship implies ecclesial blessing of their union, yet Catholic canon law (Canon 893) requires sponsors to exemplify the faith they impart—a role hard to square with a relationship the Church views as non-sacramental. Francis's “Who am I to judge?” was never a green light for active homosexuality; it was a plea for non-judgmental dialogue, paired with his later insistence that “sexual relations are only between a man and a woman.” By framing confirmation as validation of his “loving freely,” Benítez risks presenting a truncated Gospel—one of affirmation minus the cross of renunciation.
This isn't to dismiss Benítez's sincerity; his six-month catechumenate suggests genuine wrestling. But public narratives like his can mislead, implying the Church has quietly rewritten its anthropology. For LGBTQ+ Catholics already navigating isolation, it offers false hope; for the faithful majority, it sows confusion about where doctrine ends and personal exception begins.
Scandal: When Welcome Becomes a Stumbling Block
The gravest issue here is scandal—not in the tabloid sense, but the theological one: leading others into sin through example or ambiguity (CCC 2284-2287). Benítez's high visibility as an ABC anchor, coupled with Martin's endorsement, casts this as normative Catholicism. Young gay viewers might see confirmation as permission to pursue same-sex intimacy without qualms, eroding the Church's witness to chastity as universal. Traditional families, already wary of “woke” dilutions, could view it as capitulation, accelerating schisms in an era of Synod on Synodality debates.
History echoes this caution: Think of the Fiducia Supplicans (2023) backlash, where blessings for same-sex couples ignited global fury for blurring lines between approval and pastoral care. Benítez's event feels like Fiducia on steroids— a sacramental milestone, not mere blessing, with a spouse in the sponsor's seat. If the Church aims for unity, such spectacles risk the opposite: alienating the orthodox while patronizing the progressive. True scandal arises not from Benítez's orientation, but from the unchecked optics that normalize what doctrine deems incompatible, potentially driving souls from the full truth.
A Path Forward: Dialogue Over Division?
Gio Benítez's confirmation is a human story of longing fulfilled, a reminder that faith defies neat boxes. His vulnerability—questioning God's love amid identity struggles—resonates universally, echoing the prodigal's return. Yet, in celebrating it uncritically, we must confront the costs: fractured optics that polarize, teachings bent to fit narratives, and scandals that wound the Body of Christ.
Perhaps the real “legacy of inclusivity” lies in honest dialogue—welcoming Benítez as a brother while gently recalling the Church's full vision of love: chaste, faithful, and ordered toward eternity. Until then, stories like his will inspire some, incense others, and leave the flock wondering: Is this homecoming, or just another headline? In a Church of sinners and saints, the answer matters more than ever.
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Gio Benitez, Openly Gay ABC News Weekend Anchor, Joins Catholic Church
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