February 11, 2026|כ"ד שבט ה' אלפים תשפ"ו Robert Kraft’s Super Bowl Ad — And What Message We Truly Need By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

Robert Kraft’s Foundation to Combat Antisemitism aired a Super Bowl commercial depicting a Jewish high school student being harassed when another student sticks a hateful note on his back. A bystander intervenes by covering the slur with a blue square – the campaign’s symbol – and the ad ends with a call to stand up against antisemitism. The spot sparked backlash, including from many Jewish commentators who felt the portrayal leaned too heavily on Jewish vulnerability and did not reflect the strength and confidence with which many Jews want to see themselves represented. Alternative response videos circulated online showing Jews as tougher and more assertive, reframing the image from victimhood to resilience and pride. The debate revealed not only disagreement about advertising strategy, but a deeper question about how Jews should present themselves publicly in an age of rising hostility.

My reaction to the debate is that the key question in evaluating any message is: who is the message for? After October 7th, horrific videos of Hamas atrocities spread across the world. It was absolutely necessary that the world see them, to understand the evil of Hamas and the danger they represent. But I did not want to watch them myself, nor did I think my Jewish community needed to. We do not require convincing; we already know the horror. What we need are the stories of the heroes and heroines who defended our people – narratives that strengthen the soul rather than retraumatize it. The relevance of a message depends on its audience. If the Super Bowl audience were primarily Jewish, perhaps the commercial should have depicted a confident Jew who fights back and refuses intimidation – a message aimed inward, inspiring courage. But the overwhelming majority of viewers were not Jewish, and many of them need to be reminded that antisemitism is real, urgent, and morally intolerable. Sometimes the message the world needs to hear is different from the message we need to hear ourselves.

Over yeshiva break I spent time in Paris, where people urged me to remove my yarmulke. I refused. That refusal – quiet, stubborn, dignified –  is the message we owe ourselves. To the non-Jewish public, the appeal is emotional and moral: hatred is wrong, and antisemitism must not be ignored. To our sworn enemies, the message is defiance: we are not afraid. And to Jews, the message is deeper still. We must have enough self-esteem to look inward for strength, to aim at living up to our own rigorous moral and ethical standards, to be flagrantly, emphatically, unapologetically who we are. The secret to Jewish endurance is not pleading with the world to like us; it is Jewish learning, Jewish observance, Jewish strength, and Jewish achievement. The only lasting answer to antisemitism is Jewish growth, Jewish knowledge, Jewish joy, a deepened Jewish commitment, a more powerful internal cohesion, and a vigorous dedication to sharing our values with the world. We fight hatred most effectively not by centering our identity on our enemies, but by building lives so rich in meaning, faith, and purpose that antisemitism becomes a footnote to a far greater story – the story of a people who refuse to shrink, who refuse to disappear, and who continue, proudly and publicly, to live as Jews.