Chaplain, nun and captain on the Mississippi: the men didn't expect a chaplain who knew the river culture and its lingo, the waterway and its dangers, or, especially, the complexity and loneliness of their jobs

National Catholic Reporter, Sept 17, 2004 by Deborah Halter

"I know when it's safe to tall to the guys and when it isn't," Manthey explained, pointing out that work on the barges requires careful timing that can mean the difference between safety and catastrophe. "It's dangerous work. They fall overboard. They get crushed. A lock line can pop and split a man in two."

For the services these men provide, delivering lumber and grain and oil to countless homes and businesses along the Mississippi, their jobs are difficult, dirty and dangerous. But there's yet another, more insidious threat.

"They get lonely," Manthey said. "They spend two-thirds of their lives on the boats. It's hard for them to establish or maintain relationships. They miss their wives, their kids' first Communions. One of the most important parts of my ministry is to let the men get their troubles off their chests. It's a ministry of presence. When they can talk their troubles out, they're more focused on the job, and less likely to have an accident when catching lines or tying barges. They know I'm there for them. They know they're not forgotten."

Being forgotten is a chronic byproduct of life on the river. In fact, inland waterways are often overlooked as a vital transportation industry. If those towboats didn't do their jobs on the river, Manthey said, a loaf of bread might cost $6, and a gallon of gasoline $4. River transportation is not only economical, it's also environmentally sound. For every 25-barge "tow" (the collective name for the barges and their towboat) transporting cargo on the river, there are 1,500 fewer tractor-trailer rigs needed on the highway. But this cost-effective transportation can take a toll on quality of life for the people who carry it out.

"One of the biggest problems is sustaining relationships," Manthey said. "They like the lifestyle on the river, and now the cell phones make it easier to talk to their families, but cell phones can also hurt. Knowing everything that's going on at home, as it's happening, can intensify the loneliness."

Healing wounds of heart, soul, mind and body is Manthey's job. And with Kevin, the 20-something towboat captain, it was healing the body, at least at first.

"It turns out that Kevin had an abscessed tonsil. I practically had to sit on him while they lanced it at the hospital," Manthey said. "He really was scared to death. I took him to get a prescription and then back to the boat. Two days later he called, and I took him back to the hospital. He wasn't eating and was dehydrated again."

Having tended to Kevin's hospital needs once again, Manthey drove him back to the boat. "We were on top of the Huey P. Long Bridge," an infamously narrow, rickety, and highly arched bridge over the Mississippi River, "and he looks at me and says: 'So, what is it that you do?' I couldn't believe it! I said, 'Well, what I do is what I've been doing for you this past week!' And he said, 'Oh, OK.'"

Kevin was doubtless too concerned with his throbbing throat to keep track of Manthey's job description, but the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops' Web site includes Manthey on its list of "Religious Men and Women Worth Knowing" (www.usecb.org/vocations/consecrated/atoz.htm). The listing, however--"Steamboat Captain and Chaplain on the Mississippi"--does not exactly fit her priorities, she said: "I'm a chaplain first, and a captain second."