Rugby really is a religion: How faith is fuelling the Rugby World Cup 2019

Ardie Savea and Cheslin Kolbe at prayer. Photo / Getty Images

It was moments after the final whistle of the breathless, bruising World Cup scrap between New Zealand and South Africa, and amid the bedlam of Yokohama's International Stadium, rival players Ardie Savea and Cheslin Kolbe knelt on the turf, locked in a quiet embrace.

It appeared the very picture of sporting magnanimity and quickly went viral on social media, where the consensus was that the pair were enjoying "an emotional moment".

The truth was subtly different. In fact, the two were deep in prayer — "giving thanks for our many blessings", as Savea later made clear on his Instagram account. Yet this version of events — when it was confirmed — barely merited a mention by the same people who had so eagerly shared the original picture.

If a moment could have been picked to sum up rugby's uneasy relationship with religion, this was probably it. Faith has proved a divisive issue for the sport in recent months, most notably around the comments of former Wallabies full-back Israel Folau, who was sacked by Rugby Australia after launching a homophobic outburst on social media, based on his membership of the Assemblies of God Christian Fellowship.

"At the World Cup, about 80 per cent of what we talk about in our meetings relates back to God," says Dan Leo, the former Samoa, Wasps and London Irish forward who grew up in New Zealand, the son of a missionary.

"We incorporate our meetings with traditional Polynesian prayer gatherings and we do spend most of our time praying, reading the Bible and singing hymns."

In Leo's capacity as chief executive of Pacific Rugby Players' Welfare, he spent much time debating Folau and Vunipola's views with members of the organisations. "A couple of players were really outraged by what Israel said and others were really strongly supportive," he said. "It was divisive among our community."

Leo points out that for many Polynesians the comments were especially hurtful due to the role played by fa'afafine in Samoa — people who are born male but who identify as third gender or non-binary, and who account for up to five per cent of the Samoan population, including the brother of England's Manu Tuilagi, Olotuli, who goes by the name "Julie".

Fa'afafine defy Western sexual conventions or labels such as "gay", but their significance in Samoan culture means Folau's remarks cut to the quick. "A lot of us have fa'afafine in our families," Leo says. "They are really respected in our communities, they are in positions of authority, they come to church, they have positions of power in our governments, they run businesses.

"It can be difficult for us who come from cultures that have been isolated — we are behind in terms of inclusiveness and tolerance.

"But many of us who know and love fa'afafine felt that some of Israel's condemnations were personal to people we know and love and that is where the difficulty lies. People may think that all Pacific Islanders believe in that sort of condemnation, but that is not the case."

Ultimately, faith is a source of strength to many of the rugby players stationed in Japan — and one that is likely to make them more, rather than less, tolerant.

Ben Ryan, who coached the Fiji sevens team to Olympic gold in Rio three years ago, describes himself as "non-religious", but was deeply touched by his team's daily lotus, which encompassed team meetings, but were predominantly Christian in tone.

"I found the guys really accepting and loving because of their faith. I never felt like they were judgmental, it was the opposite," he said. "It was funny that with sevens we all stay in the same hotel and often we would have players from other teams join us in the lotus — often South Africans and other Pacific Islanders. They would never say anything about the tactics we discussed because they felt they were in God's presence."

That echoes with Savea and Kolbe's shared moment in prayer, which came just after they had been in pitched battle in one of world rugby's most intense rivalries. As an antidote to the divisions caused by the Folau controversy, it was refreshing.