On May 21, shortly after 4 p.m., an elderly man — balding, bookish, bespectacled — called Dominique Venner walked into the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris and up to the altar, on which he left a sealed envelope. In front of 1,500 tourists and worshippers, Venner then pulled out a handgun and shot himself in the mouth. The 78 year old was a journalist, historian and essayist; he was also a venomous and near-psychopathic bigot, someone who fought for neo-fascist groups in the 1960s and sought to keep France French, to borrow from his American counterparts.

He committed suicide just days after same-sex marriage was legalized in France, a homeland he no longer recognized.

If one feels somewhat oddly sympathetic toward the man, it is only because he was so pathetic. To feel this way is to grant him the humanity he refused to see in those who didn’t look or act exactly as he did. It sucks to feel such sympathy for the devil, but it is necessary.

The gay rights movement in the United States has done remarkably, miraculously well, especially over the past couple of years. Consider: President Barack Obama is at least a vocal supporter of marriage equality; same-sex marriage is legal in 12 states including Minnesota, which has elected Michele Bachmann four times; the military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy has been repealed; the Defense of Marriage Act of 1996 will probably be declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court sometime this year; and most recently, you can be both openly gay and a Boy Scout.

To someone like you and me, all of these developments are fantastic achievements, representative of the ideal that history is a narrative of moral progression. They show that the self-evident truths outlined in the Declaration of Independence will only become more self-evident over time. A long time to be sure, but we are watching the universe bend toward justice.

It is bewildering and disturbing, then, when we are confronted by people who do not see the moral virtue of marriage equality as a self-evident truth. How do these provincial bigots live in the same universe as us, let alone the same country?

Let’s consider the homophobe — an honest bigot, not one of these hucksters of hate like Bryan Fischer, James Dobson or anyone else who runs an organization with the word “family” in its name and appears on Fox News. The kind of homophobe I’m talking about lives a normal life, with a normal job, a normal house, normal family and friends, a normal appreciation for “Fast & Furious 6,” yet is profoundly devout, informed by a lifetime of religious upbringing. In other words, they were born this way. If you have lived a certain way and believed in certain things for your entire life, it’s rather difficult to reprogram yourself once society has changed and left you behind. For many, homophobia is not a choice.

Contrary to the lazy and syrupy thinking of Upworthy, most homophobes are not stupid, repellent, obtuse or whatever else you can think to call them. Like everyone else, they can be all these things, but — like everyone else — they’re also morally serious, introspective, compassionate, respectful and human. Most importantly, though, is that they are afraid, as the term “homophobia” suggests. They are freaking out and sick to their stomachs as they watch their country and culture be destroyed by “the enemy.” It’s an absurd fear, of course, but so is triskaidekaphobia, fear of the number 13. We shouldn’t mock or scorn homophobes for their intolerance. It is all they have left.

Imagine how it must feel to live in this world as a homophobe. Of course, you’re terrified — you’re also lonely, confused, anxious, more than slightly paranoid. You feel absolutely hopeless and adrift and you would rather blow your brains out in a church than continue to watch everything quite literally go to hell. At least for those who are in or out of the closet, it gets better.