Super Bowl 2026: Sympathy or Stereotype?

הרב שי טחןכג שבט, תשפו10/02/2026

when I walk the streets of New York, I would much rather be seen by my enemies as an aggressor than as a victim. I would rather be blamed for being strong than pitied for being weak...

This year’s Super Bowl commercial focuses on combating antisemitism. The ad portrays a young Jewish teenager named David walking through a public school hallway, where two bullies shove into him from both sides. Other students are shown giggling at his expense. When David reaches his locker and takes off his backpack, he discovers a sticky note with the words “dirty Jew” written on it.

that moment, a Black student approaches him and places a blank blue sticky note over the offensive message, telling David not to pay attention to it and that he knows how he feels. As David turns around, ready to confront whoever may have put it there, the other boy stops him and tells him that they are not worth it. The two then shake hands and walk away together. The commercial ends with the message that two out of three Jewish children experience antisemitism.

Although the idea of combating antisemitism is necessary and praiseworthy, in my opinion this commercial may produce the opposite effect. At first glance, its message seems simple: raise awareness of antisemitism and hope that by exposing it, society will address or reduce it. But history repeatedly teaches us that appealing for pity and showing vulnerability rarely brings positive results.

People rarely feel genuine sympathy for the weak Jew as a victim; on the contrary, they tend to respect and support us when we are strong, successful, and self-assured. Pleading for pity from the world has never worked, and it will not work now. I recall Rabbi Avigdor Miller once saying that when we advertise to the world the crimes committed by the Nazis against helpless Jews, the outcome is not universal sympathy. Instead, we unintentionally provide ideas and fuel for those who already wish us harm.

Yes, of course, many Americans may resonate with the message of the commercial and feel concern or empathy. But this is only part of the audience. For others, portraying Jews primarily as weak victims reinforces the stereotype of vulnerability, rather than inspiring admiration, respect, or protection. The lasting lesson of history is clear: our safety and dignity have always come from strength, resilience, and visible capability, not from seeking pity.

In short, while the intent of the ad is noble, its approach may inadvertently undermine the very goal it seeks to achieve. It risks sending the wrong message about Jewish identity and how the world perceives us.

This commercial actually illustrates my point in a subtle way. When the boy places a blue sticky note on top of the offensive one, what does that really accomplish? The hateful note is not erased; it merely gets covered, temporarily hidden. This action symbolizes the nature of such “solutions”—like placing a bandage on a wound that doesn’t heal, or taking Tylenol when sick, which masks the pain for a short time but does not address the underlying illness. In some cases, the problem even resurfaces with greater force.

Similarly, showing a Jewish child being bullied or humiliated does not solve the problem of antisemitism. Instead, it risks reinforcing the perception of Jews as weak or vulnerable, potentially making them a target rather than inspiring respect or understanding. History teaches that our safety, dignity, and influence have always come from visible strength, resilience, and self-assuredness—not from asking for pity.

If we want to connect this to the Torah portions we have been studying lately, we can see the same principle in the story of Pharaoh. As long as the Jews were weak, he enslaved them and killed their children. But when Hashem revealed their strength, Pharaoh came to respect them and ultimately freed them. The same lesson appears with Amalek, who attacks only the weak—those whom the clouds did not protect. Similarly, in the story of Purim, which we will soon celebrate, Haman and the enemies of the Jews were ready to carry out their “final solution” when the Jews were defenseless. But as soon as the Jews gained permission from King Achashverosh to defend themselves, the enemies retreated. This teaches us that strength, courage, and the ability to defend ourselves are what ultimately earn respect, protection, and survival.

Moreover, we can learn this very idea from recent events. When Israel was attacked on October 7, the bullies of the world celebrated and openly vowed to join in and take part in its destruction. But as soon as Israel fought back with determination and defeated its many enemies, the tone began to change. Strength commanded restraint, and resolve forced reconsideration. Once again, reality demonstrated that weakness invites aggression, while strength deters it.

Even though everything Israel has done since then is fully justified, on a personal level, when I walk the streets of New York, I would much rather be seen by my enemies as an aggressor than as a victim. I would rather be blamed for being strong than pitied for being weak. I would rather see buildings lit in Palestinian colors out of sympathy for them than see Israeli flags projected out of sympathy for us, as happened after October 7.

As Rabbi Meir Kahane once said, he would rather be hated by the world when we are victorious than receive the world’s sympathy after catastrophe, as happened following the Holocaust.

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