Priest shines light of faith as storm victims deal with pain
He and colleagues address physical, spiritual needs.
The Rev. Mark Goring nears his parish community center, and the mounds of trash come into view. Shards of plywood and plaster are stacked atop heaps of black trash bags bulging with soggy filth. Inside, soaked furniture has been pushed aside as workers buzz jigsaws to cut slabs of drywall soaked by more than 2 feet of water that gushed in from the bayou.
It’s a mirror of what many who pray alongside this priest are struggling with at home, and he draws them close in a circle, heads bowed and hands clasped. He tells them they worship a God of miracles, that they won’t be crushed by their losses, that as mysterious and unwanted as it might be, this trial reminds them what exactly they hold true.
“Now is the time,” he tells them, “for us to stand on our faith.”
Some who have come to Goring in the days since Hurricane Harvey hit ask what kind of God would allow such suffering. It’s a question for which he has no answer. Others who have lost everything come with broad smiles, praising God in gratitude and displaying a depth of faith the 41-yearold priest isn’t even sure he could show. All of them are in search of something, putting Goring’s ministry in a race to help with both spiritual and material needs, and to use the devastation as an opportunity to be an example of love wherever he goes.
“You rejoice with those who rejoice,” he said. “You mourn with those who mourn.”
At his church, the Catholic Charismatic Center south of downtown, the sprawling lobby is a swarm of volunteers staffing tables full of donations for the storm’s victims. He kicks off brown sandals and records one of numerous videos he posts online to reach his flock.
Goring’s office has a bright orange surfboard against one wall and two skateboards propped up by the door, clues to his outdoor passions.
This is a church of unconventional priests perhaps made for this anything-but-conventional time.
One of his brother priests, the Rev. David Bergeron, got trapped in his truck on Interstate 610 as the storm struck. As Sunday morning dawned, he took the kayak out of the back, paddling to try to buy wine so he could celebrate Mass with the rest of the stranded. Bergeron recounts miraculously finding an open convenience store and grabbing a bottle but being turned away at the register because it wasn’t yet noon.
“People are sad. People are uncertain,” Bergeron said. “And what we try to do is to bring people hope.”
Each day now is a flurry. Sunday morning, Goring was sopping up water that seeped through the walls of the house he shares with Bergeron and another priest, all of them members of the tiny Companions of the Cross order. After a stop at the church and the trip to survey damage at the community center, he’s back in his 11-year-old Acura SUV, winding through streets with lingering pools of water and stinking piles of trash, looking for untouched places and any sign of need to send teams of volunteers out to help.
The logistics of it all weigh on him. One moment he’s talking about renting a huge trash bin; the next he’s on the phone with his idea to teach some young parishioners how to drywall their damaged homes, a boon to those in need and a bit of vocational training for the rest.
He drives through Houston’s streets — near the George R. Brown Convention Center, where he saw so many thousands suffering; beside mountains of wreckage he proclaims heartbreaking; by the faces of the poor and the hurting, who wonder what comes next.
The midafternoon sun is blazing, and Goring has again reached the church. He heads to his office. Three volunteers file in to talk about the supply of items they’re distributing, and Goring begins the meeting with a prayer in which he expresses thanks for the rare opportunity he’s been given to serve and love the people. Bergeron traveled to Haiti after its mammoth earthquake, but Goring has never seen such huge loss before. He says he doesn’t even try to understand it, focusing instead on the beautiful things that have risen from it.
“It’s the age-old mystery, the mystery of suffering and evil,” he said.
The rest of the afternoon disappears.
As the volunteers fan out, Goring ducks into a small candlelit chapel and sinks to his knees in prayer. He asks for God’s help and gives thanks for the aid that already has been sent. A joy has come in this sadness, he insists — a spirit has been awakened in the people.