So, even though Tim Tebow will be nowhere to be found on the football field this Sunday, and regardless of whether someone will thank Jesus with the Lombardi Trophy in hand, we are nearing the end of the lenten season called the playoffs and entering into the most sacred days in the calendar of the United States of America.

Whether the divine is audibly invoked this weekend, there is no doubt: the NFL isn't our national pastime. It is our national religion. And the Super Bowl is its high holy day.

I think that's why I found myself more than a little bewildered by the whole Tim Tebow saga this season, whether you were all for "Tebowing" or you found it all too Jesus-freak-ish.

Because the fact of the matter is, religion is and always has been part of sports. And sports exhibit so much of what makes religious activity religious that all the talk about Tebow's faith-talk seemed to me like walking among the trees and wondering where the forests are.

Just think about the Super Bowl.

On Sunday, people will gather in masses to watch not just a game, but a full-bore ceremony of spectacles, of which the game is only a part.

It will have many parts: the pregame show, the coin toss, the kickoff, the first commercial, the halftime show, the closing seconds, the coach's handshake, the trophy presentation, the winner-loser interviews, the final montage.

This year we should get an extra treat too: since its on NBC, I'm fully expecting a signature sign-off from Bob Costas that will remind us once again of how a tiny gesture or storyline in the day's events will reflect the genuine humanity of us all.

And I'm not joking: I might cry. Quietly. Just a tear.

Each part of the ceremony will be as hotly anticipated as the last. And really what other event has people just as excited for the advertising as for the main attraction?

And all of it will be accompanied, in many places, by eucharistic feasts of comfort food that are second to none.

Does this sound like any other events we know?

How about these, for a few: Thanksgiving. Christmas. Passover. Eid Al-Fitr (the Muslim celebration at the end of Ramadan).

The only other times we get together to do the kinds of things we do on Super Bowl Sunday are on occasions somehow connected with religion.

Now, I'm not saying any of this to somehow disparage one or the other. Only to show how this particular ritual — and ritual is exactly the right word for it — has been so ingrained in our cultural fabric that the lines between religion, entertainment, consumption and faith get so blurred as to be unrecognizable.

And also to point out that in other world cultures beside this one, the explicitly religious festivals (see the list above) look more like "our" Super Bowls than the other way around. Well, at least until the World Cup starts. Then all bets are off.

This is why I think some Americans lose their heads — either "for" or "against" — when someone like Tim Tebow explicitly expresses his particular faith on a football field. He's making our worlds collide.

And he's reminding us that, perhaps subconsciously at least, when we say "God bless America," we might as well be saying "God bless the Patriots." Or the Giants, depending on which denomination you belong to.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, a week after the Super Bowl, pitchers and catchers report to spring training.

So please keep your voices down, because that's when my church will start.

The Rev. Travis Scholl is managing editor of theological publications at Concordia Seminary, St. Louis. His Civil Religion blog is called, "POP GOES GOD • Thoughts on faith and culture from a Lutheran perspective."