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Why the "He Gets Us" ads continue to trigger debates about doctrine

Why the "He Gets Us" ads continue to trigger debates about doctrine

There is nothing unusual about a photograph of two men embracing at a gay Pride march, surrounded by rainbow flags, banners and New Orleans-style beads.

But one of the men in this image from the latest "He Gets Us" Super Bowl advertisement is wearing a John 3:16 hat, as in the Bible verse proclaiming: "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life."

Many of the ad's photographs are easy to interpret, such as a man removing "GO BACK" graffiti from a home, a woman helping a weeping man in a grocery store, a firefighter hard at work and a young football player comforting a defeated opponent.

But the John 3:16 hat raised the theological stakes in the Pride photograph, noted Samuel D. James, an editor active in Christian publishing and founder of the Digital Liturgies website.

"It's obvious one of the goals of 'He Gets Us' is to cut across political and ideological divides," he wrote, at The Gospel Coalition website. "The writers know where the fault lines in American religious culture are – abortion, LGBT+, race, class and so on. And who could resist being moved by these images of human vulnerability and compassion? Who can push out of his or her mind the many moments in the Gospels where Jesus met such needs and taught his followers to do the same?"

The ads seek to create "curiosity about and sympathy for Jesus," he added, with a style targeting an "impressionistic, algorithmic generation." But there's logic behind the debates triggered by these advertisements. Their content is vague, since the "image-based, music-backed ads lack exposition or annotation; such things would only get in the way of the audience's emotional response."

The Pride scene resembles a photograph, in the 2024 Super Bowl ad, of a protester "washing the feet of a young woman outside of an abortion clinic," said James, reached by telephone. There's no way, for example, to know if the patient is entering or leaving the facility.

Ties that bind: Elizabeth II symbolically linked her final rites to those of her husband

Ties that bind: Elizabeth II symbolically linked her final rites to those of her husband

During the private funeral of her husband, Queen Elizabeth II sat alone near the St. George's Chapel altar, socially distanced from her family and wearing a black pandemic mask.

This searing portrait of grief moved viewers worldwide. And as Prince Philip's casket was lowered into the Windsor Castle vault, singers chanted the Kontakion of the Departed, a tie to his Orthodox roots in Greece.

“Give rest, O Christ, to thy servant with thy saints," they sang, "where sorrow and pain are no more; neither sighing but life everlasting. … All we go down to the dust; and weeping o'er the grave we make our song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia."

Only 18 months later, Queen Elizabeth requested the same chant, in the same chapel. This time it marked the start of the committal liturgy which closed a 10-day wave of statecraft, vigils, memorials and processions preceding the majestic state funeral.

The queen's final, intimate Windsor Castle service began where her husband's had ended, as if one rite was flowing into another.

"Queen Elizabeth was one of those people in this mortal life who always thought ahead," said David Lyle Jeffrey, distinguished senior fellow at the Institute for Studies in Religion at Baylor University. When preparing these rites, the queen was "clearly looking for prayers, scriptures and hymns that made connections she wanted to make for her family, her people and the world. … I think she succeeded brilliantly."

An Anglican from Canada, Jeffrey said the events closing the queen's historic 70-year reign were an appropriate time to explore the "essence of her admirable Christian character." Thus, the retired literature professor wrote a poem after her death – "Regina Exemplaris (An exemplary queen)" – saluting her steady, consistent faith. It ended with:

"… She who longest wore the heavy crown / Knew but to kneel before the unseen throne / And plead her people's cause as for her own, / And there to praise the Lord of All, bowed down, / More conscious of his glory than her high acclaim, / Exemplar thus in worship, in praise more worthy of the Name."

The gospel according to post-theist Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong

The gospel according to post-theist Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong

Newark Bishop John Shelby Spong never stuck "Why Christianity Must Change or Die" on the doors of Canterbury Cathedral, since it was easier to post a talking-points version of his manifesto on the Internet.

"Theism, as a way of defining God is dead," he proclaimed, in 1998. "Since God can no longer be conceived in theistic terms, it becomes nonsensical to seek to understand Jesus as the incarnation of the theistic deity."

Lacking a personal God, he added, it was logical to add: "Prayer cannot be a request made to a theistic deity to act in human history in a particular way."

Spong's 12-point take on post-theism faith emerged after spending years on the road, giving hundreds of speeches and appearing on broadcasts such as "The Oprah Winfrey Show" and "Larry King Live." While leading the Episcopal Diocese of Newark, within shouting range of New York City, he did everything he could to become the news-media face of liberal Christianity.

By the time of his death at the age of 90, on Sept. 12 at his home in Richmond, Va., Spong had seen many of his once-heretical beliefs – especially on sex and marriage – normalized in most Episcopal pulpits and institutions. However, his doctrinal approach was too blunt for many in the mainline establishment, where a quieter "spiritual but not religious" approach has become the norm.

Spong called himself a "doubting believer" and said he had no problem reciting traditional rites and creeds because, in his own mind, he had already redefined the words and images to fit his own doctrines. He also knew when to be cautious, such as during Denver visit in the late 1980s – an era in which the Diocese of Colorado remained a center for evangelical and charismatic Episcopalians.

After a lecture at the liberal St. Thomas Episcopal Church, I asked Spong if he believed the resurrection of Jesus was an "historic event that took place in real time."

"I don't think that I can say what the disciples believed they experienced. I'll have to think about that some more," he said, moving on to another question.

The bishop answered a decade later, in his memo calling for a new Reformation: