Every year, I take to social media to peruse the varied opinions of the Superbowl halftime show, one of the most coveted gigs in the music industry. In the aftermath, everyone seemingly becomes experts in music, choreography and audiovisual production, and Kendrick Lamar’s 2025 performance is one of the most polarizing in recent memory.
I cringed as I read some of the reviews on my feeds. I was especially disheartened by many of the dismissive comments about Kendrick’s performance as “vulgar” or “incoherent” that came from White people. If we allow it, I believe Kendrick’s artistry can prompt us to appreciate the beautiful and painful realities of our nation – something we, as White people, can have the privilege of avoiding unless we seek it out.
While Kendrick’s words are important – he is a Pulitzer Prize-winning poet after all – the show went beyond words to symbolic subterranean and subversive messaging. Using set design, visuals, choreography and song selection alongside the lyrics, the rapper told the story of his own experiences as a Black man in the U.S. as well as the history and present of Black people and the struggles for equality. His performance was more than entertainment to feel the halftime void; it was a prophetic performance and pronouncement.
Christians confronted, upset or confused by Kendrick’s half-time show would do well to remember the imagination and performance of the prophet’s role in provoking the audience. Prophets remind us of God’s words and requirements, often showing how we have strayed from God’s desires.
Christians confronted, upset or confused by Kendrick’s half-time show would do well to remember the imagination and performance of the prophet’s role in provoking the audience.
As I reflect on Kendrick’s concert in the days following the Eagles’ decisive win, here are elements that continue to resonate with meaning:
First, Samuel L. Jackson played a Black Uncle Sam, which is reminiscent of his role as Stephen in “Django Unchained,” a powerful house slave who works to uphold the institution of slavery. During Kendrick’s performance, Uncle Sam(uel) parroted the slaveholding narrative that Black people should be kept in line. Was he Uncle Sam or Uncle Tom, eager to appease and gain the approval of White people? The syntax was further stressed as Uncle Sam warned Kendrick to play nice: “Too loud, too reckless, too ghetto… Mr. Lamar, do you really know how to play the game?” After Kendrick performs “Man At The Garden,” Uncle Sam says, “scorekeeper, deduct one life.” It is clear not playing this “great American game” is costly, even deadly.
Samuel L Jackson introduced Kendrick Lamar’s halftime show at the #SuperBowl pic.twitter.com/1Wk0RXtuaY
— DailyRapFacts (@DailyRapFacts) February 10, 2025
Second, the stage design had an aesthetic reminiscent of the Korean Netflix show “Squid Games,” which critiques capitalism and the exploitation of the poor through the pretext of deadly games. The goal is to survive the game, which proves difficult for the masses trying to compete simultaneously. Kendrick, it seems, pointed a finger at the Super Bowl as an example of exploitative corporate greed.
Third, the immediate context of Kendrick’s performance provided additional meaning. At the beginning of his show, Kendrick referenced and reversed Gil Scott-Heron’s 1971 poem “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” saying: “The revolution is about to be televised; you picked the right time but the wrong guy.” With President Donald Trump in attendance, Kendrick’s words and performance represented a call to revolutionary action within earshot of the 47th president. “Revolution,” meaning “to return” or “to roll back,” is a word with a loaded and often bloody history, changing in context. Kendrick’s definition of revolution, it seems, is one of active resistance — acknowledging the racial disparity of our country and acting to change it. With President Trump present, Kendrick called for radical change.
Fourth, the set design referenced a prison yard. As Black dancers congregated in the space, Kendrick seemed to critique mass incarceration and a disproportionate number of Black people imprisoned by the system. This criticism is not new for the rapper. In 2016, Kendrick performed at the Grammy’s while handcuffed in a chain gang and jumpsuit.
Fifth, during the song “HUMBLE,” the dancers come together to form an American Flag. Then, the dancers bend over to suggest that the US has been built upon the backs of Black people. Kendrick stood alone, caught in the middle, and said, “It’s a cultural divide.” Like the performance overall, Kendrick lifts a mirror, inviting us to see our nation divided — and, as the whole show explored, how we got here and what we need to do to get out.
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Finally, in “Not Like Us,” the song written in response to his public musical feud with rapper Drake, he says, “40 acres and mule, this is bigger than the music.” Kendrick draws on the broken historical promise after slavery to Black Americans. General William T. Sherman’s Special Field Order No. 15 called for the redistribution of confiscated Southern land to freedmen, formerly enslaved men, in forty-acre plots of land. This unfulfilled promise is often referenced as a basis for reparations — a call Kendrick seemed to repeat.
At the end of the show, the stadium lit up with a message: GAME OVER. The message is clear. How will we respond? Will we keep playing the game, or will we accept the invitation to join in radical resistance to the social ills and injustices in our society?
The lights in the crowd during Kendrick Lamar’s Halftime Show read “Game Over” pic.twitter.com/wWBGIGVpql
— The Sporting News (@sportingnews) February 10, 2025
For protestants confronted, upset or confused by Kendrick’s performance, it may be helpful to remember the Reformed tradition was a revolutionary movement. It was a refutation of and response to the abuses of power within the church. It was a movement for the people against the powers that be.
In that vein, we should heed Kendrick’s wake-up call to stop playing the “game” — and we can turn to Jesus for how to apply this call.
In that vein, we should heed Kendrick’s wake-up call to stop playing the “game” — and we can turn to Jesus for how to apply this call. For Jesus was also a prophet calling for revolution, not to bear arms but to bear one another’s burdens. As Walter Wink reminds us in The Powers That Be: “Violent revolution fails because it is not revolutionary enough. It changes the rulers but not the rules, the ends but not the means.”
As followers of Jesus, we must care about the means and the ends. This is the scandal of the cross and the paradox at the heart of Christianity: Jesus died as a person but rose as a people and movement. We should reclaim this revolutionary edge of our faith; in doing so, perhaps we can put the “protest” back into Protestant. We are called to speak truth to power, stand on the side of the marginalized, and pick up our cross to follow Jesus. Maybe we can even do it with a beat.
The Presbyterian Outlook is committed to fostering faithful conversations by publishing a diversity of voices. The opinions expressed are the author’s and may or may not reflect the opinions and beliefs of the Outlook’s editorial staff or the Presbyterian Outlook Foundation. With every submission, we consider clarity, accuracy and respect. We also consider if the position adds additional perspectives to the discussion. You join the conversation here.
