I have loved football all of my life. My father played football in college, while my brother and I, due to a downward genetic mutation, were mediocre high school players. In 2007, I had the opportunity to attend the Super Bowl in Miami, a once-in-a-football-lifetime experience. It was Peyton Manning’s first Super Bowl appearance and win. Devon Hester began the game by returning the kickoff for a touchdown. Now, 17 years later, my face should still be shining like Moses after coming down from the mountain. But it’s not. The veil to cover my countenance is still in its original packaging and tucked somewhere in a drawer under my old COVID masks. The 2007 Super Bowl was the worst football game I’ve ever attended. The reason had nothing to do with football. Let me rephrase that. The reason was that the game had nothing to do with football.
The 2007 Super Bowl was about corporate tickets purchased for important clients, who likely didn’t even care for football (I was asked by the rows behind me to sit down during the opening kickoff). It was about Chicago playing at a pre-game party where I saw rappers and Wayne LaPierre mingling in the same crowd. It was about Prince at halftime (which was wonderful if you saw it on television). It was about money. It was about everything except, perhaps, the game of football.
This year’s Super Bowl was the most watched television event in American history, with an average viewership of 123 million. The shining silver Lombardi trophy, polished over four months by Tiffany and Co., has become our nation’s mirror. What did we see this year when nearly half of the country tuned in to see our reflection? What was staring back at us? Anger. If social media are the best we have for a society’s pulse, it was racing. Outrage at the anthem(s), the halftime show, the commercials, Taylor Swift, etc. The most shocking image was the Kansas City Chiefs’ tight end Travis Kelce screaming in the face of his head coach while knocking him off balance. There were no smudges or streaks on this Super Bowl mirror. The reflection was flawless.
Why are we so angry? When I have confessed wrath, past confessors have suggested my anger is a projection of self-loathing. I am angry because I have not let the love of Christ envelop me. When I’ve offered similar advice in the confessional, I can feel the penitent recognize, as I have, the liberating truth of that counsel. We need to let ourselves be loved.
With this in mind, I think the “He Gets Us” commercials deserve another look. I’ve gone back and forth with these ads and I’ve read numerous takes and critiques, some of which raised fair and thought provoking points. Mike Cosper of Christianity Today said in a tweet that the “He Gets Us” commercials are a Rorschach test, and I think he is right. If you want to see woke messaging in the ad, I’m sure you can. If you want to see a creative invitation to discover Jesus Christ, you can do that as well. Mainly, fitting the theme of the Super Bowl, people were just angry.
Personally, I liked the commercial, even if it wasn’t perfect. To be fair, I doubt there has ever been a social media post I’ve made on the church account where I did not later critique and others cringe. I’ve moved heaven and earth to scrub from the internet those hip and edgy YouTube videos that I made in the early 2000s. Crafting a message in an evolving medium that stands the test of time is nearly impossible.
I watched the foot washing commercial when it aired, and I’ve gone back and watched it several times since then. Every time I’ve watched it, I realize something is not there that I assumed was. For instance, if you asked me on the night of the Super Bowl who was washing feet in the ad, I would have said Jesus. But Jesus was never in the ad. I am confused by the critique that Jesus only washed his disciples’ feet and that this ad misrepresents Our Lord. Jesus commanded his disciples to wash the feet of others, “For I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you” (John 13.15). I first assumed the abortion-clinic scene was more pointed. But when I watch it again and again, one does not know if the woman changed her mind and did not enter the clinic or if she did and regretted her decision, or none of the above. But regardless of her hypothetical decision, should she be denied the love of Christ? In any scenario, those feet will carry a heavy burden, and should they not be washed in the name of Jesus? Was it a nuanced presentation of the mystery of Christ? No. Could someone have legitimate critiques? Absolutely. Is it a reason to get angry? I’m not convinced. I’ve never had a million people, much less 123 million, listen to me preach but when the nation tuned in to see its angry reflection in the spectacle that is the Super Bowl, it heard, for 30 seconds, that Almighty and Everlasting God hatest nothing that he has made.
Why are we so angry? In Mark 9.38-41, St John tells reports to Jesus that a man was casting out demons in Christ’s name. John, with other disciples, forbade him because he was not of their number. Jesus corrects John, saying that whoever is not against them is for them. The following verses, I think, are the really important ones for this conversation. Jesus reminds us of our responsibility not to cause scandal and cause those who believe in him to sin. The greater misrepresentation of Jesus Christ has been the lack of charity in his Name in response to “He Gets Us” than the actual 30-second commercial. If we are not careful, we will mirror the line-crossing behavior of Travis Kelce screaming at his coach. If we are not careful, we will also echo how he justified his behavior by saying we, too, are just passionate and we want the best for the Church and the proclamation of Gospel. When in fact, we are just angry, have no self-control, and violated a boundary. In our sin, we are also hurting others.
I think we should revisit “He Gets Us” and ask why “He Gets Us” angry? I found myself challenged and asking if I am quick to show mercy and love, even before a confession of faith and before and declaration of repentance. I found myself realizing that I need to take off my shoes and allow my pride to die and let those around me love me, who have been so desperate to do so. I need Jesus Christ to wash me. I need to trust that he got me, gets me, and will always get me.
Thank you so much for this insightful and helpful response.
I think this is right. I used the exact same verses from Mark in my own public defense of the ad.
In the most part, the ads carry a worthy message, and if people would use them to guide the way they treat one another they would generally be a positive, so far. The people behind the ads use their billions to influence our government and politics in ways which are at least wrong headed in a society that does not require a specific religious belief, and at worst would be pure evil in the eyes of the Jesus I believe in. This is just another way of using their billions to mold society in their own image. I have not called or texted to find out where they lead people who do respond, but I think recruiting people into an absolutist interpretation in which many evangelical churches indoctrinate through slick advertising is hypocritical. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop – Jesus gets us, now don’t you realize in-vitro produced embryos are people?