We really need to come behind and press for marriage equality in

Hear now, O listeners, the words of Leo Varadkar, a leader who walked the path between courage and compassion, who once declared: “We really need to come behind and press for marriage equality in Northern Ireland.” These words, simple yet resounding, were not spoken in the comfort of victory but in the shadow of unfinished justice. They called upon hearts that had already won freedom to extend their hands to those still yearning for it — to remember that equality, once achieved for some, remains incomplete until it is granted to all.

Varadkar’s words arose in the wake of great change. In Ireland, the people had, through courage and conscience, embraced marriage equality by the will of their own vote — a triumph not just of law, but of love. It was a moment when a nation, long shaped by faith and tradition, found the strength to say that love between two souls is sacred, no matter its form. Yet across the narrow sea, in Northern Ireland, that same recognition had not yet been written into law. There, couples still waited, their hopes bound by borders invisible to the heart. It was to them that Varadkar spoke — not as a politician seeking favor, but as a man urging humanity toward wholeness.

The ancients taught that a victory divided is a victory delayed. When one city is free but another remains chained, the empire of justice is not yet secure. So too, Varadkar’s call was the voice of solidarity — the reminder that freedom is not a possession to be hoarded, but a flame to be shared. “Come behind and press,” he said, meaning not to lead with force, but to stand together, to lend weight to the cause of equality until the scales of justice are balanced. In this, his words echo the wisdom of old: that the righteous do not rest when their own burdens are lifted, but labor until every burden is gone.

Consider the story of Emmeline Pankhurst and the suffragettes who fought for women’s rights in Britain. When English women finally gained the right to vote, there were still sisters across the world — in Ireland, in India, in America — who remained voiceless. Yet the true reformers did not celebrate alone. They turned their triumph into fuel for others. They wrote, they marched, they spoke, until their cause became the cause of all. So too, Varadkar’s words were born from that same spirit — the understanding that justice is indivisible. No nation can claim progress while its neighbors remain behind.

But deeper still, his call reminds us that equality is not merely a matter of law; it is a moral covenant between human hearts. For marriage — that ancient union of souls — is not only a private bond but a reflection of the society that blesses it. When any love is denied recognition, the whole of humanity is diminished. The fight for marriage equality in Northern Ireland, therefore, was not a struggle of politics, but a struggle for dignity — a plea that love be honored, not hidden. Varadkar, in urging action, sought to awaken in all people the truth that the measure of civilization lies in how fully it honors the humanity of each person within it.

And yet, his words carry another lesson — that victory demands persistence. The arc of progress is long, and even when it bends toward justice, it must be guided by steady hands. To “press” for equality is to move beyond words and into deeds: to vote, to speak, to educate, to challenge old prejudices wherever they linger. Varadkar’s voice was not the shout of conquest, but the steady command of endurance — a reminder that freedom, like faith, must be tended lest it fade.

Therefore, O children of tomorrow, take heed. When one corner of the world rejoices in equality while another weeps in waiting, do not rest content in your own freedom. To be just is to stand for others as though their cause were your own. If love is divine, then defending it is sacred work. So wherever injustice lingers — in law, in custom, in silence — do as Varadkar urged: press on, with patience and power, until all may stand as equals beneath the same sky.

For this is the truth that endures through ages: justice is never whole when it is partial, and love is never safe until it is universal. Thus, let every victory become the seed of another, and every freedom gained become a promise to those still waiting. Only then shall humanity walk upright — not as nations divided by law, but as one family bound by the eternal law of love.