Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio (aka Bad Bunny) continues to grow as an international sensation. In a previous Go Rebuild blog post, I attributed his global impact to his ability to authentically reclaim Puerto Rican culture, joy and decoloniality and redeploy them in ways that address the contemporary realities of all.
His recent half-time performance during the Super Bowl LX halftime show continues this trend and contains new lessons for our Church leaders about the power of authenticity and fidelity in the face of political oppression.
In addition to being an entertainer, Benito is unapologetically political, even when taking such a public stance against injustice costs him viewership (e.g., the Turning Point USA alternative halftime show drew many viewers away from his performance). This speaks to an authenticity and a fidelity that cement his credibility and integrity as someone grounded in principles and not fear.
What struck me most about Bad Bunny’s halftime performance was not just its spectacle, but its spiritual and political depth. The show staged a fiesta in the face of oppression: bodies dancing, drums echoing Afro-Caribbean ancestry, queer joy interrupting heteronormative expectations and a relentless insistence that love is stronger than hate. The choreography celebrated embodiment rather than shame. The visual symbols reclaimed Puerto Rican tradition while simultaneously challenging the rigid cultural scripts that have continuously oppressed us (like the downed power lines that continue to deprive Puerto Ricans of electricity).
Crucially, when Benito invoked “God Bless America” while calling out every country in the Americas and lifting a football marked Together, we are America, he offered a vision of unity that did not erase difference but wove it into a profound sense of solidarity and humanity. This was not empty patriotism via exclusion but rather a declaration that joy, inclusion and love are political acts. More importantly, I contend, they are the heart of the Gospel.
I wish our Catholic leaders would take note. Over the past several months, I have been encouraged by Catholic bishops who are raising their voices as the immigrant communities in our country face horrors at the hands of this administration. However, I am also frustrated at the lateness and the mildness of these interventions. With a few notable exceptions, U.S. bishops were mostly silent in the face of the white nationalist rhetoric during the 2024 campaign, only to scramble to respond after the dehumanizing policies and tactics were in place post-election.
As I witnessed the rise of this administration, I asked myself: Where are our Catholic bishops?
The answer, in my view: They were silently riding the wave of the far right because it promoted their own anti-abortion, pro-traditionalist views. It amounted to a massive sell-out of Latinx folks, queer folks, women (especially victims of sexual violence), the poor and other marginalized groups.
As was the case with the papal conclave, bishops sometimes cloak their silence under the banner of unity, as if neutrality would somehow preserve the unity of humanity and the Church. However, such efforts are misguided because they ultimately betray the message of the Gospel, which places human dignity and justice above superficial unity.
In the 2024 ecclesiological investigations conference, Bryan Massingale offered an important challenge to this vision of unity: “At what price do we preserve ‘unity’? Who is being asked to pay the price and shoulder the burden of unity while we wait for a consensus to appear?”
Now we know—and are witnessing in horror—who is shouldering this burden in our Church and in our country, to the point where Catholic leaders are belatedly trying to figure out how to respond.
Obviously, engaging our political realities does not necessarily mean engaging in partisan politics, although sometimes it does if we are to respond to specific real policies and political maneuvers (like condemning ICE). At any time, we can choose to engage in political activism guided by principle—especially the principles of the Gospel.
Here is where Bad Bunny comes in.
Bad Bunny’s performance revealed a model of principle-driven politics that many religious leaders hesitate to embrace. Bad Bunny is not campaigning for a party; he is connecting his craft to the moral realities shaping people’s lives. He does his music well, even if he is not the best vocalist, and his authority comes from his authenticity and fidelity to these principles.
Like Bad Bunny’s music, Catholic witness becomes compelling when it is authentic and faithful to those whose lives are marked by struggle.
Seen in this light, the halftime show becomes a reminder of something deeply Catholic: faith has always insisted on meeting people in history rather than above it. God’s grace does not bypass the world but works through bodies, cultures and contested realities. This is why, a week before the halftime show, when Bad Bunny received the Grammy Awards for the Album of the Year and Best Urban Music Album, his remarks reflected the following priorities: “Before I say, ‘Thanks to God,’ I’m gonna say ‘ICE out.’”
When Church leaders learn to prioritize and speak from principles of justice over superficial unity, they will be authentically and faithfully proclaiming the Gospel.
And we desperately need them to.
Ish Ruiz is the assistant professor of Latinx & queer decolonial theology at Pacific School of Religion.