Why, you ask?

Well, I like records. They're interesting. And baseball has lots o' records.

So does TV. And one of the biggies, a record that's withstood everything television programmers could hurl at it for 27 years, fell on Sunday night.

According to preliminary ratings estimates by Nielsen, Super Bowl XLIV was the most watched television program ever in the United States. About 106.5 million folks tuned in to see the New Orleans Saints battle the Indianapolis Colts—about half a million more than watched the M*A*S*H finale in 1983 (105.97 million).

What should we make of such interest in a game between two teams that hardly hailed from major markets?

Some have speculated that the massive snowstorm on the East Coast may have contributed to the spike in viewership. But I think the numbers are interesting for a couple other, more significant reasons.

In a media world that is increasingly divided into a myriad of niche options for consumers, the Super Bowl seems to be the last man standing. It's a cultural event that transcends race and gender and socioeconomics and politics. It's something that just over a third of our nation watched. And we're still talking about the commercials, if not the game itself. In short, it's a unifying event that's taken on the feel of a national holiday—if not a national religious experience for more ardent fans.

But if the Super Bowl unifies, everything else under the television sun is fragmented—and fragmenting further given the profusion of cable TV offerings, on-demand capability and Internet options. And that makes it very unlikely we'll ever see a network television show serve as a the catalyst for a shared cultural experience like the M*A*S*H finale.

That fact is illustrated by how the nation's biggest sitcoms bowed out, ratings-wise, post M*A*S*H. In 1993, the Cheers finale drew 80.4 million viewers. Fast-forward five years to Seinfeld's final show (about nothing), and 76. 3 million fans tuned in. And Friends? The show's 2004 sign off netted 52.5 million viewers—less than half of M*A*S*H's record.

Now, fewer people watching popular sitcoms isn't anything to cry about. In fact, it might well be worth celebrating, given the content of current comedies such as Two and a Half Men and How I Met Your Mother. But it does illustrate the fact that our cultural common ground when it comes to broadcast entertainment is a far cry from what it once was.

At least, with everything except the Super Bowl.

As some of you may have heard, Focus on the Family (Plugged In's parent organization) will be airing a commercial during the Big Game this weekend. The ad—featuring former Florida Gators quarterback Tim Tebow and his mom—has become a pretty big deal around here—so much so that execs have taken to wearing shoulder pads and doing chest bumps in the hall. Morning devotionals are sounding more and more like play calls ("Isaiah 26:12 … hike!"). And I'm expecting Dippin' Dots vendors to show up sometime today.

But if the Super Bowl ad has triggered a certain eccentricity on the Focus campus, it's made some folks positively apoplectic outside it.

I've not seen the ad. My boss has not seen the ad. My boss's boss has not seen the ad. Very few of us inside the building have seen it, much less outside our pleasant, cubicle-lined confines. Nevertheless, several groups have asked CBS to yank the thing.

"By offering one of the most coveted advertising spots of the year to an anti-equality, anti-choice, homophobic organization, CBS is aligning itself with a political stance that will damage its reputation, alienate viewers, and discourage consumers from supporting its shows and advertisers," read, in part, a letter to the network signed by a number of women's groups.

Sports columnist Gregg Doyel, who writes for cbssports.com, took a different tack: "If you're a sports fan, and I am, that's the holiest day of the year. It's not a day to discuss abortion."

The ironies, of course, abound. I mean, we're talking about a sporting event that features advertisements devoted to beer, scantily clad women and folks getting thwacked in the crotch.

"Objectionable, after all, is in the eye of the beholder," wrote James Poniewozik, television columnist for Time magazine. "It seems ridiculous to start saying that espousing religion … is objectionable in an ad environment of alcohol-pushing animals, slapstick violence and Danica Patrick's cleavage."

For a while, news-related searches for Focus' ad dominated Google. And maybe that's not too surprising since our media culture loves a good row. But my guess is that when folks actually see the ad their reaction will be along the lines of, "Wow. And groups were up in arms over this? An ad celebrating families?"

When I was a religion reporter at a Colorado newspaper, I covered Focus on the Family quite a bit. And I learned pretty quickly that some people love the organization and some people—well, don't.

Now, frankly, I can understand why some folks might disagree with elements of what Focus does: We don't shy away from wading through controversial waters when conviction calls and Scripture specifies. That's part of what the leaders here feel called to do. But back in the day, one of my sources told me something that feels pretty appropriate right about now:

"Focus is about as controversial as flossing your teeth."

And really, when it comes right down to it, that's how Focus perceives itself: a dispensary of oral hygiene tools—which might hurt a little at the time, but are designed to help and heal, not harm.