For faithful fans, an Astros rosary
Popular colors help fund local church’s repairs
Inside Annunciation Catholic Church, there are vaulted ceilings and gothic arches, frescoes depicting the Angel Gabriel’s apparition to the Virgin Mary and majestic stained glass windows recounting the mysteries of the rosary.
There are 149-year-old pews, as old as the structure itself. A 1924 Pilcher’s Sons Opus organ in the music loft. The smell of wax and sulfur from burning prayer candles.
And, in a small alcove, just off the side of the main sanctuary, on a table draped in black cloth, there are dozens of rosaries crafted from beads and crystals and pearls. All in orange and blue. The colors, any local baseball fan could tell you, of the Astros, the boys of summer who occupy the ballpark just across the street, the 2017 World Series champions whose run to the top lifted up a city knocked down by Hurricane Harvey.
The team whose devoted fan base, in a roundabout way, is now helping the historic church raise money for much-needed
renovations through the sale of those Astrosthemed rosaries.
The story of the rosaries, like the story of Houston itself, is one of ingenuity and grit, of resilience and faith restored. It weaves together people like Father Paul Felix, the Annunciation pastor whose family has long been a part of the city, and Maria Esther Aguilera, the rosary-maker who immigrated here from Mexico.
It is the tale of how an off-hand notion became a “big whatchamadoodle,” said Elsie Hernandez, the church’s development director, quoting — appropriately enough — a line from the 1951 movie “Angels in the Outfield.”
More than 2,500 rosaries — ranging in price from $15 to $80, some with white stones that resemble miniature baseballs, some with stars that evoke the Astros’ symbol, all made by hand by two local women — have been sold since last season, when Hernandez first came up with the idea.
A table set up in a gated courtyard, where rosary sales start two hours before weekend home games, drew so many people that church staff had to give out numbered tickets. Astros owner Jim Crane purchased some to give to Catholic friends. One, specially designed with a sterling silver cross, blue lapis, white agate and orange crystals, made it to Rome and into the hands of Pope Francis.
Banners on the construction fence ringing the Annunciation property at Crawford and Texas urge the faithful — to both baseball and God — to “Make it a double header. Go to Mass and the game!” Others tout the church as the “Home of the original Astros-colored rosaries” and note “Even the Pope has one!”
Match made in heaven
The more games the Astros won last season, the more rosaries the church sold. And every time the church sold out, it seemed, the Astros won.
For Father Felix, it was a match made in, well, heaven.
The rosaries are not only a fun way to raise money for a $4 million project to repair and rehab the rectory and offices of Annunciation, the oldest Catholic church in continous use in Houston. They also carry out the larger mission of the parish, which includes some of the city’s major sports venues and the George R. Brown convention center.
On Astros game days, worshippers decked out in Astros colors and T-shirts fill the pews. Many of the players’ families duck in to say a quick prayer before the first pitch.
“What we do inside the church is so important and it’s so sacred and so beautiful and truly awesome,” said Felix, only the eighth pastor in Annunciation’s 149 years. “But it also has to have a connection with what goes on outside the doors of the church.”
During last year’s Super Bowl, the church created an outdoor shrine to St. Sebastian, the patron saint of athletes, with candles in red and blue — the colors of the Atlanta Falcons and the New England Patriots. It was a way, says Felix, of encouraging prayer and welcoming people into the church.
After Harvey struck, Felix took Mass to the thousands of families who found shelter at the convention center after flooding drove them from their homes.
The Astros rosaries, he said, are simply another part of the church’s outreach.
They are a way of touching lives and sparking faith, agrees Hernandez, who recounts stories of Astros fans who have reached out. The woman requesting a rosary for her dying father-in-law. The grandchild who wanted to place one in his grandmother’s casket. The husband whose wife had just been diagnosed with stage 2 cancer and asked for a rosary with orange beads and blue crystals.
“This was the right time to do this,” said Hernandez, who pointed out that last year — the same year Harvey wrought so much grief, the same year the Astros brought so much joy — was the 100th anniversary of the appearance of Our Lady of Fatima, who Catholics believe urged followers to pray the rosary. “Everything created a desire for this.”
For Maria Esther Aguilera, one of the two women who make the Astros rosaries, this, too, has become a mission of love and faith.
Aguilera had been raised Catholic in her native Mexico but as an adult, grew distanced from the church. After immigrating to the U.S., she felt unsettled, unhappy. Something was missing. So she started to read the Bible, returned to Mass, began once again to feel fullness in her soul.
Then, about four years ago, Aguilera’s family ran into legal troubles. She was in a state of panic. So she turned to the rosary, praying with her family every night, asking Mary to intercede on their behalf.
Fingers and prayers
In the end, the troubles were easily resolved, and Aguilera vowed to repay the blessing by spreading the word of the rosary. She teaches classes in how to make and pray the rosary — and spends several hours a day at her kitchen table stringing beads, crucifixes and medals together to fashion the Astros rosaries.
The nooks and crannies of her kitchen and living room are filled with plastic bins containing silver crosses and Sacred Heart medals, lime green bags stuffed with crystals, stones and pearls in Astros colors, and an assortment of pliers and tweezers.
Each rosary takes 59 large beads or stones, 210 tiny connecting beads, a crucifix and a medal with the image of Mary.
As Aguilera sits at the table, she counts off: Uno, dos, tres, cuatro y cinco. With each number, a bead whizzes down the thread of nearly translucent fishing line.
Sometimes, when she is working alone, Aguilera listens to a rosary app on her phone, the spoken prayers calming her mind and spirit. Other nights, she and her husband might catch an Astros game on TV, while she strings orange and blue crystals and stones (cherry, orange and white for the popular retro color rosaries.)
Always, Aguilera utters a silent prayer as her fingers dance: Holy Mother, may these rosaries bring faith to the hands that hold them.