There's no poverty of faith in Appalachia.

In years gone by, most of what the folks in Lewis County knew about Catholics was the story of the healing waters of Our Lady of Lourdes Chapel at Escalupia Springs.

For a moment history these springs brought travelers from faraway places to this bucolic Kentucky hill country to walk in the waters of Escalupia and find a cure for whatever ailed them. What most of these pilgrims actually found, though, were chiggers--the little mites that burrow under your skin and make it itch, with stinging irony, like hell. But the resident doctor/spiritual guide told them that burning feeling was just the mineral waters getting all the poison out of their body. And many believed, and many returned, and many more came.

Today there are 52 Catholics in all 484 square miles of Lewis County. That equals about one Catholic for every 9 square miles. (For perspective, Los Angeles has almost 4,000 times as many.) In other words, in Lewis County they are few.

Because of stories like Escalupia Springs and stereotypes about Catholics and their odd ways, they were regarded with suspicion by many in this area, where the majority of residents are Pentecostal. Mary McClurg, one of the 52, says that when she came back to Catholicism more than 20 years ago she kept her religion very low-key and didn't tell too many people about it, but now she is much more comfortable.

People still say the 'Catholics,'" She says, "but they say it a little nicer now."

Part of what has helped to improve the image of Catholics in the area are the social services provided by Catholic groups such as the Glenmary Home Missioners, who have initiated programs like Meals on Wheels and the Glenmary Farm, a retreat center that houses students and adults who come to Lewis County to volunteer their time on projects like home construction and visiting the elderly and disabled. Currently visitors to the farm are working on the renovation of an old building in downtown Vanceburg into a Boys and Girls Club.

With statistics below the national average in nearly every positive category, Lewis County needs the help. The 2000 census revealed a 12 percent unemployment rate--largely due to U.S. Shoe/ Nine West, formerly a major employer in the area, moving its factories overseas--and a median household income of only $22,200 compared to the national median of $42,000. Nearly 30 percent of Lewis County residents live below the federal poverty level.

Only 57 percent have a high school diploma, compared to 80 percent nationwide. As for bachelor's degrees, Lewis Countians are 18 points behind the national average at just 6 percent, and most of those who do graduate move out of the county to settle their families and find employment.

On top of all that, Lewis and its surrounding counties face environmental problems caused by a coal-mining method known as mountaintop removal, in which mining companies use heavy machinery to shave off the peak of a mountain until they reach the level where coal deposits lay. The earth that is removed from the peak is dumped into the valley, causing floods and a host of other environmental problems.

But all these statistical inadequacies cannot dampen the pride of residents like Malcolm and Mary June Roe, who have lived here all 58 years of their married life. Malcolm's grandfather settled here during the Civil War, when he was run out of nearby Elliott County for being a Yankee sympathizer.

Theirs is a common war-time story: They met Aug. 14, 1943 on a blind date to the "Loop" in St. Louis, where Malcolm was stationed. But soon after, Malcolm was off to fight in World War II. When he came back, they eloped.

In 1948 Lewis County got electricity, and in 1967 the Roes established a general store in Vanceburg, the county seat. Today their son, John, and his wife, Karen, run the store and live nearby.

Despite frequent floods that have cut off Vanceburg residents from delivery routes, the general store has always been there to supply the needs of the community as best it can. And during hard economic times, the Roes "sold" their groceries and supplies to the local people on credit. Much of it has never been repaid, but the Roes don't much mind. They see that kind of help to their neighbors as part of living their faith in God.

"If we collected all the money we are owed, we'd never have to worry about anything the rest of our lives," Mary June says, seated in a rocker in the humble living room of their mobile home just behind the store.

Because of their generosity, they believe, they will always be taken care of in turn. "I don't reckon God ever let us not make a payment on anything we owe. He made a way," Malcolm says.

The Roes are members of the Blankenship Christian Holiness Church, one of many small Christian churches in Lewis County with fewer than 200 members each. More than 50 percent of the population at tends church services at least once a week.

There is just one Catholic church in the county, Holy Redeemer, a quaint A-frame in Vanceburg served by Glenmary priests and run by a pastoral associate. The same priest usually drives from the 8:45 a.m. Mass in Vanceburg to celebrate a later Mass in nearby Carter County.

Glenmary missions serve communities where the Catholic population is less than 1 percent, where more than 40 percent have no church affiliation whatsoever, and where the poverty level is more than twice the national average.

Recent research from Glenmary shows that 173 counties in the southern U.S. have no Catholic church, and an additional 196 counties have a Catholic church but no resident pastoral minister.

Everybody has heard the cariacature of the common Appalachian--uneducated and shoeless--but few know the real facts and real people of this region. For example, the average American probably has no idea that the official boundaries of the Appalachia region, as determined by the federal government, run through 13 states as far north as New York. its area covers all or part of Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia, West Virginia, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and New York.

Jokes abound about the people of Appalachia--the punchline usually being about incest and inbreeding, general unintelligence, the movie Deliverance, or some other negative stereotype. Mary McClurg says that these jokes used to really get under her skill. "Thirty years ago, I resented it," she says. "But now I think it's kind of funny, and I just laugh and play along."

Recently when visitors from Chicago and New Hampshire inquired about the biscuits and gravy known to be a culinary specialty in these parts, McClurg told them, "Usually we just suck it through a straw and let it drip down our chins." That one still makes her laugh.

A SOBERING SPRING BREAK

College kids live for spring break-partying at the beach, letting loose after midterms. But for hundreds of students this March, spring break meant a week in rural Vanceburg, Kentucky, lending their hands in volunteer service at the Glenmary Farm, where the motto is "Peace came and stayed."

Students do manual labor such as building homes for low-income families, spring cleaning at Holy Redeemer Catholic Church, or renovations and cleanup at the new Boys and Girls Club. But equally important is their ministry of presence in the community, spending time visiting with the elderly and infirm as well as the guests at Comprehend, a day program for adults with developmental disabilities. At night the students join together in prayer and song and even attend worship services at one of the local Christian churches.

I was lucky enough to tag along with a group of about 40 students from the University of Notre Dame (my alma mater), Marian College in Indianapolis, and St. Xavier University in Chicago. Each of the schools organizes annual service trips to Appalachia. Notre Dame alone sends between 300 to 350 students to different parts of Appalachia every spring and fall break.

TARA K. DIX is assistant editor of U.S. CATHOLIC.