Chicago’s Wrigley Field, with its ivy-covered brick walls and lush green grass, is often described as a baseball cathedral. For 30 minutes each week, it becomes one.
When the Cubs play at home on a Sunday, Father Burke Masters celebrates Mass in Section 209, behind the home team dugout along the third base line. He stands before a simple altar—typically a folding table—and looks up into the stands at a congregation of 30 to 40 people, continuing a decades-long tradition of Masses in Major League Baseball stadiums.
Father Masters brings sacred liturgical vessels and linens from his home parish in Chicago’s southwest suburbs: a simple crucifix, ciborium, chalice, corporal and missal, along with hosts and wine. As in many Catholic churches throughout the country, a printed worship aid guides the congregation through readings and prayers.
Mass begins about four hours before the first pitch is thrown. At that time, the only people with access to the ballpark are those working there: front office staff, team broadcasters, umpires, stadium vendors and the ballplayers themselves. When they attend Mass, they all sit together.
“It’s beautiful, because in God’s eyes, there’s no difference,” Father Masters says. “You see that we’re all beloved children of God. The employees respect the players. They don’t hound them for autographs.”
With few exceptions, Major League teams make Sunday Mass available on home weekends during the season. A group called Catholic Athletes for Christ organizes the liturgies by communicating with clergy and laypeople in Major League cities.
During Cubs games, state-of-the-art scoreboards sizzle with sponsor messages and advanced statistics—familiar elements in the modern sports and entertainment experience. On Sunday mornings, sound systems remain quiet out of respect for a rite that predates the seventh-inning stretch by millennia.
“My favorite thing about going to Mass at the ballpark is that everyone is in their own uniform,” says Mike Sweeney, the five-time Major League All-Star and current Kansas City Royals advisor. “The vendors have their uniforms on. You’ve got the umpires. You’ve got the Major League players, the front office, the priest. We’re all in our uniforms. The Holy Eucharist and the presence of a holy priest turn a baseball stadium into a cathedral every Sunday. And it’s so unique to come into that cathedral and receive the Holy Eucharist alongside people you don’t see on a daily basis—and people you might be playing against a few hours later.”
Through Sweeney’s description, we begin to understand the role of faith within a singular workplace in American culture.
‘Hanging Out With Saints’
No professional sport in the United States requires more time on the clock than baseball during its regular season—162 games in 186 days. A Major League player could report to spring training in early February and have official work obligations every Saturday and Sunday through the end of the World Series in October. On the General Roman Calendar, the liturgical calendar of the Catholic Church, that can be every weekend from Ash Wednesday until All Saints’ Day.
A typical Sunday game begins around 1 p.m. local time. A player’s pregame routine—personalized workouts, team scouting meetings, batting practice—lasts several hours and begins while liturgies are underway elsewhere in town. Such is the spiritual life of the Catholic ballplayer: He cannot go to Mass, so Mass must come to him.
Sweeney lived that reality from his debut in 1995 until his final game in 2010. During his playing career and since, he has reflected on what it means to remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.
To Sweeney, baseball is not an impediment to the practice of Catholicism. Rather, the game provides an opportunity to amplify his faith through the platform afforded to professional athletes.
“Holy means ‘set apart,’” he explains. “As Major League Baseball players, we’re called to set apart our time, to be different, to be filled with the Holy Spirit. On that Sunday, when we’re fed with the Holy Eucharist, we become a walking tabernacle for Christ. In me, God chose a very imperfect vessel to carry his word forward.”
Referring to 2 Corinthians, Sweeney says, “I want to spread the fragrant aroma of Christ when I walk into a ballpark.”
Catholic Athletes for Christ was founded in 2006 in response to Pope John Paul II’s establishment of the Vatican’s Church and Sport Office (now part of the Dicastery for Culture and Education) two years earlier. While Masses at several ballparks predate C.A.C., the organization has standardized and supported the practice throughout the sport. By 2024, all 30 Major League clubs were regularly celebrating Catholic Masses at their home ballparks.
Yankee Stadium was among the first Major League stadiums to begin the tradition of Sunday Masses. The late Father Edward J. McMahon, a Jesuit for 66 years and a former U.S. Navy chaplain, served as the Yankees’ celebrant for more than a decade.
Sweeney has fond memories of hearing two of baseball’s most iconic voices serve as lectors at ballpark Masses: the Hall of Fame broadcaster Vin Scully at Dodger Stadium and the famed public address announcer Bob Sheppard at Yankee Stadium.
“It’s not St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York, but I still feel like I’m in a different kind of cathedral,” Sweeney explains. “At Yankee Stadium, I’d look around the room and see Joe Torre, Derek Jeter and Bernie Williams. It feels like I’m hanging out with saints.”
In linking clergy with Major League clubs, Ray McKenna, the C.A.C. founder and president, prioritizes identifying priests who are familiar with baseball’s everyday norms and nuances—including how players communicate with one another, in English and Spanish.
Oh, and there’s another important consideration: efficiency. Because of a tightly scheduled pregame routine, Masses must fit into a 30-minute window.
That’s right. Thirty minutes.
The sport that gave us the “pitch timer” has inspired the most succinct homilies you’ve ever heard.
“There’s no music, unless we sing the psalm; that shortens things,” Father Masters explains. “The homily is probably three minutes, versus maybe seven to 10 [at a typical Mass]. Communion for 40 people doesn’t take too long. Everything else, we do. We recite the Gloria. We do all the readings. We recite the Creed, the intentions.
“For the Eucharistic prayer, I’ll often do No. 2, which is the shortest one. You try to save a minute or two on everything, but it’s tough. I love to preach, especially in that environment, but I have to bite my tongue sometimes and remember that they’ve got to get to work.”
‘A Tremendous Force’
Father Masters is the ideal celebrant for Masses at Wrigley. He grew up in Illinois before starring in baseball at Mississippi State University, where he hit the home run that clinched the Bulldogs’ spot in the 1990 College World Series.
He had dreamed of being a professional baseball player or executive, but discerned a different path after he was not selected in the Major League Baseball draft. He entered the seminary in Mundelein, Ill., in 1997 and was ordained to the priesthood five years later for the Diocese of Joliet.
Because roughly one-third of all Major League players speak Spanish, Father Masters’s bilingual capacity is more important than his knowledge of how to hit a curveball. He studied Spanish in high school and college, but did not become fluent until a parishioner from a majority-Spanish-speaking congregation tutored him. “I’m so grateful,” he says. “It’s opened up another world. You think of all the Spanish speakers in the world I can communicate with now and share the Gospel with. I see God’s hand through all of that.” He now serves as the pastor at St. Isaac Jogues in Hinsdale, Ill., about 30 miles from the iconic ballpark where he has celebrated Sunday Mass for 13 years.
“My first Mass there, it was me and one player—and he was a new convert, so he didn’t know the prayers,” Father Masters recalls with a laugh. “Little by little, word got out, but I’m amazed there are still people who are surprised that there’s Mass there. When they find out, then they want to come.”
When the Cubs and New York Mets agreed to a blockbuster trade on July 30, 2021, many fans and baseball analysts focused on the departure of the Cubs’ All-Star shortstop Javier Báez. A different aspect of the deal was most relevant to the Wrigley Mass: The pitcher Trevor Williams, a devout communicant and trusted lector, also went to New York in the deal.
Fortunately, Father Masters has some mainstays on his own Sunday roster. “One of the vendors, he sells adult beverages at the ballpark,” Father Masters says, smiling. “He’s our sacristan…. He’ll be the Eucharistic minister for the cup, as well.”
Attendance increases when the Cubs enjoy postseason success, illustrated by a memorable series of events in the autumn of 2016. With the team seeking its first World Series title in more than a century, Miguel Montero delivered a pinch-hit grand slam in Game 1 of the National League Championship Series on a Saturday night. Before the next day’s game, Montero attended Mass outdoors; a large media throng was there early and took notice.
“I felt so bad for him, because normally there’s no press there for Mass,” Father Masters recalls. “But it was a huge game, and he had just hit a grand slam. When he came up for Communion, there were cameras all over. I apologized to him afterward, and he’s like, ‘No, I’m used to that.’ But that made the media aware of Mass at the ballpark. We had an uptick after that experience for sure.”
While the end of the Cubs’ century-long championship drought with their 2016 championship inspired countless prayers to forbearance—and eventual gratitude—the first American pope is a supporter of their crosstown rivals.
Sunday Mass has been said at the Chicago White Sox home ballpark since long before Robert Francis Prevost—a lifelong fan of the team—became Pope Leo XIV. The tradition there dates back roughly a quarter-century, thanks to the late White Sox broadcaster Ed Farmer and Bobby Bertucci, co-owner of the Baseball Buffet, an in-stadium food service vendor.
Bertucci was a close friend of the late White Sox fan Ed Schmidt, who attended the 2005 World Series with Pope Leo, as documented in a widely viewed photograph. Bertucci still wonders if he talked baseball with the future pope during one of the Holy Father’s visits to the ballpark during that era.
Catholic players take active roles in ensuring Masses are available across the Major Leagues. When the veteran pitcher Nick Martinez became aware that the Yankee Stadium Mass needed a priest to fill in several years ago, he reached out to Dennis M. Baker, a Jesuit priest whom Martinez had befriended while in college at Fordham University in the Bronx. The relief appearance, if you will, led to another opportunity: After Father Baker became president of Loyola Blakefield, a Jesuit college prep academy outside Baltimore, he accepted the invitation to celebrate Mass on a weekly basis at Oriole Park at Camden Yards.
“I’ve said Mass in lots of interesting places—on beaches, in people’s homes, big cathedrals—but an auxiliary clubhouse in a big-league park is one of the more unique settings,” Father Baker says. “The players come in, just wearing T-shirts and shorts and shower shoes. But there’s something about the stillness of it all, before the busy day of a big-league game, that is cool.”
During the prayers of the faithful, Father Baker is mindful to include an intention for those “who bring the game to us, especially behind the scenes.”
“When [we] go to a game, we often don’t think of all the people who have to haul the trash, or cook the food, or pick up all those peanuts and wipe all the seats down,” Father Baker says. “You might see some workers, like the grounds crew or a cameraman or a cop. But it takes this tremendous force to bring the game to us. And it’s important that we don’t forget that.”
‘A Silent Strength’
The Arizona Diamondbacks strengthened their Sunday Mass tradition last year at the suggestion of Rolando Valles, a native of Venezuela who is in his fourth season on the team’s coaching staff. Sunday Masses are celebrated across the hallway from the team’s locker room, in an area reserved for manager Torey Lovullo’s postgame news conferences.
Last year, the team’s players and coaches made up the congregation. Beginning this season, the invitation has been extended to team operations and clubhouse staffs. “I think it’s great, because it doesn’t matter who you are,” says the pitcher Brandon Pfaadt, who attended Bellarmine University in Louisville, Ky., before the Diamondbacks drafted him in 2020. “We’re all human beings. We’re all there for the same reason. It’s great that we opened it up to everybody. More people are going to be able to come and enjoy it as one.”
Early in his career, Sweeney went to Sunday services through Baseball Chapel, an interdenominational Christian organization and the most widely attended program among Major League players. Baseball Chapel was founded in 1973 and has a formal relationship with M.L.B. to operate in all 30 stadiums and across the minor leagues, as well.
Steve Sisco, the former Major League player and president of Baseball Chapel, believes that baseball’s daily, communal nature creates an ideal environment for players to share their faith with one another.
“They do life together every single day,” Sisco says. “They’re playing. They’re eating. They’re on buses. They’re on planes. They’re in hotels, bullpens, dugouts, clubhouses…. When you are at a church in civilian life, we’ll call it, they compartmentalize: I’ve got home life, church life, work life. In the game, especially during the season, it’s just life. It’s what they do. And so to integrate discipleship-minded walk, or ministry, just makes sense, because you’re supposed to be doing life together.”
The former Major League infielder Jamey Carroll attended Baseball Chapel throughout his professional career and says the services offered reminders to “slow our heartbeats down a little bit and look into the gratitude of the gifts and blessings we’re sitting in front of. That is needed during the chaos of the season, the pressures of performing, and being away from family…. I look back on it now, after all these years, and realize what a great opportunity that was. Having that provided was a silent strength.”
Sweeney’s outreach to Catholic Athletes for Christ resulted from his desire to bring the sacramental experience of a Catholic Mass into the ballpark. Because of his current front office role with the Royals, Sweeney spends a lot of time with the team’s current players. He’s been present while All-Star shortstop Bobby Witt Jr., a recently confirmed Catholic, served as a lector. He’s also heard former Royals pitcher Angel Zerpa read Scripture in Spanish.
Sweeney has a vivid recollection of attending Mass one Sunday at Boston’s Fenway Park. Father Paul O’Brien served as the celebrant, as he has for a galaxy of Major League stars at Fenway since 2001. The Harvard-educated Father O’Brien is credited with helping to reinvigorate the Catholic community in Lawrence, Mass., where he has been pastor at St. Patrick Parish for a quarter-century. On this particular Sunday at the ballpark, however, only one other person attended along with Sweeney: then-Red Sox first baseman Sean Casey.
“We had Mass in a little closet, in this ballpark that was built in the early 1900s,” Sweeney says. “I kept thinking, ‘This is awesome. It feels like I’m in the Book of Acts and the early church.’ These are things that have changed my life.”
Today, Baseball Chapel and Catholic Athletes for Christ operate in parallel to meet the spiritual needs of players. A typical Baseball Chapel service is centered on Scripture reading and chaplain-led conversation for M.L.B. players and staff. Gatherings tend to be small, in part because the forum is designed for attendees to open up about their spiritual lives away from the field.
“You learn what people are going through,” says Detroit Tigers power hitter Kerry Carpenter, who has attended Baseball Chapel since 2021. “There are times in my career and my life where it’s like, ‘I need to tell people what’s going on, so people can pray for me or encourage me.’ Then we can encourage them and pray for other people.
“You get to know under the hood what’s going on, because you never know when you’re out there. It looks like everyone’s living the dream on the field, but sometimes you’re not in a good place mentally, spiritually, which I’ve been there a lot.”
In many instances, there are four Baseball Chapel services in every ballpark—separately for home and road teams, in English and Spanish. Ramón Urías, the St. Louis Cardinals infielder from Magdalena de Kino, Mexico, attends every week. “It’s the most important thing in the world to me—God first, and then everything else,” Urías says. “This keeps you grounded and helps you try to enjoy your life.”
At Mass and Baseball Chapel alike, there’s an effort to avoid praying for victory. Instead, Carpenter prays to be filled with the peace of Christ. He says that when he experiences that, he has the best chance to calm his mind and prepare to do something very difficult: hit a baseball squarely when it’s zooming toward him at 100 miles per hour.
“It starts with my quiet time that I spend with Jesus in the morning,” Carpenter says. “I have these affirmations I write down that are rooted in God’s word. That’s the way he frees me every day. He gives me peace every day. I wouldn’t even be able to go out there [on the field] without him.
“I did it in my own power for a long time. Having the peace now, it’s pretty special to go out there and play like that. I pray that he gets all the glory for that. It’s an amazing feeling. That’s what I want everybody else to feel: that peace.”
Many American Catholics wonder if Pope Leo will one day celebrate Mass before tens of thousands in a Major League Baseball stadium. When considering that every M.L.B. stadium already is a place of Catholic worship, it’s not difficult to imagine. We’ll just have to advise M.L.B. teams to adjust their pregame schedules—otherwise, who will inform the Vatican of that 30-minute time limit?
This article appears in July/August 2026.
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