For most of football season, Father James Baraniak wears his green vestment with gold lining when he performs Mass in Green Bay, Wis.And while it has nothing to do with the Packers' team colors — green is mandated by the Vatican — it is something of a holy coincidence, given the fact that he has been the Packers' chaplain for the past 13 years.
Still, sometimes his primary allegiance with the church causes some playful friction with the team.
"During Advent, I am obligated to wear purple, the color of penitence but also the Minnesota Vikings," he says. "If we play them at that time, you can bet the players will have a bit of fun with me and call me a traitor."
Every football team in the NFL has at least one chaplain to whom the players and coaches can turn for religious guidance.
And though some may question the appropriateness of bringing one popular American Sunday pastime — God — into a considerably more commercial and violent Sunday pastime, the chaplains believe it is precisely their mission to help reconcile the two.
Forget the mysteries of the sacraments — what about the answers to these theological questions: Does God want us to lose? Does he favor the Steelers? What makes Lambeau Field sacred? Is it right to pray for first downs when people are suffering? And who caused that fumble, Jesus or Julius Peppers?
Owners and coaches try to take care of their players physically, financially and psychologically, but they understand that players have spiritual needs too. And the more the players are spiritually at peace, the more they can focus on the game.
Some teams favor a group approach — the Indianapolis Colts, for example, have three go-to spiritual receivers, covering Protestant and Catholic denominations. (The NFL is overwhelmingly Christian; when the occasional Jewish or Muslim player requires counsel, the teams generally outsource.)
And it's not just the players who make use of chaplains' services. On game day, some chaplains can be seen in the cement concourses hustling back and forth from the owner's box to the sidelines quelling anxieties and quieting doubt.
The chaplains are often former professional athletes. Adam Burt, an Evangelical chaplain for the New York Jets, spent 14 seasons in the NHL. As ex-players, they understand the anxieties of always being watched and evaluated, and experience can be next to godliness.
"Moses went through the desert himself before he took the Israelites through it," says Pastor James Trapp of the Atlanta Falcons, who was a defensive back on the 2000 Baltimore Ravens championship team. They aren't paid team salaries but usually fall under the managerial rubric of "player development."
(At least one, the chaplain for the Chicago Bears, has an office in the training complex.)
Financial support comes from their outside work, and players are free to contribute to those ministries, if they choose. The chaplains say the strong faith of many of the coaches and owners creates favorable working conditions, allowing them a wide degree of access.
And on any given Sunday during football season, they need it. There are chapel services prior to the game, and the chaplains often lead the Lord's Prayer pre-game in the locker room and again post-game, with both teams at the 50-yard line.
(Participation is optional, and many players abstain from religious services, not wanting to mix their professional lives with their spiritual ones.)
But the chaplains believe their real value is more long term than game-day ministering. Through teaching Scripture and individual counseling, they attempt to bolster the players' values, so that their priorities, especially when they leave the regulated world of football, do not lead them down the path of self-destruction.
At the same time, the chaplains help the players understand the acceptability of being forceful on the field, even as good Christians.
"The popular perception of Christianity in America, prior to the last 10 to 15 years, has been that being a Christian meant you were soft — you were considered weak, kind of a pushover," says Pastor Trapp. "You're the guy who was going to turn the other cheek. But you read in the Bible that some of those guys were brash and bold and forceful but still had a heart and a desire for God."
In small group-study sessions, chaplains offer guidance for the challenges that come with the players' new money and fame. Carey Casey, chaplain for the Kansas City Chiefs, uses the Book of Proverbs (Chapter 7: 6-27) to warn the players about crafty women they might meet in downtown clubs.
When crises hit, a chaplain can provide paths to repentance; however, most prefer not to help anyone play Monday-morning Christian. Faith, they say, should be cultivated, not used as a fallback position.
When a player gets into trouble, the coaches and management might be tempted to trot out his Christian faith to help with public opinion, but that makes the chaplains nervous.
One's religiosity should assist the players to find direction, not serve as misdirection from what they did wrong.
"The question is: Are you using Jesus for monetary gain or eternal gain?" says Trapp.
"Monetary gain says, 'We have an issue with a guy; let's now throw the Christian hat on. Let's get the media to play that. We don't want to lose money — that's our star player!' But if you're really trying to use Jesus for eternal gain, it's going to show up in the NFL and in our society. That's my encouragement. Stop trying to pimp Jesus."
Because the highs can be so electrifying and the defeats so crushing, players often want help contextualizing the season. Their professions depend on victory, but the Vince Lombardi Trophy can signify something greater than a big win.
When asked if a Super Bowl ring serves as an idol for the players, Trapp puts his spin on football's Holy Grail: "Every time I think about the Super Bowl, I think about the season. Every time I think about the season, I think about the relationships. And the Super Bowl doesn't even compare to the season and the relationships — because the Super Bowl is long gone, but the relationships are still here and still solid and still growing."
The playoffs mean more time to do unto your teammates as you would have your teammates do unto you.
After the 7:30 a.m. Mass for the Packers on game day, Father Baraniak heads over to St. Norbert College, four miles from Lambeau, and officiates at Mass for the students.(Some of them, he admits, come to his service because they know he'll finish in time to get to the game.)
By kickoff, Baraniak can be seen on the sidelines in his clerical collar and black garments (his team-color vestment left at the rectory), ready for whatever might get thrown his way.
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SIC: TIME