Deacon Dan Wright

Monday Night Prayer

Many are weeks that pass by in one's life when we may have associated Monday with the drudgery of returning to work.  I have found that when prayer sets the tone for the day, our work has the potential of showing us the glory of God's works rather than revealing our human failure and fatigue. 

Indeed work has the potential--even the power--of setting us free rather than enslaving us, but it's tricky--sometimes.  Really quite often it's difficult to keep in mind that the things we do are meant to direct us to our Creator at all times.  So we let our prayer be the pathway that directs our steps each moment.

Thus, as this day ends, I turn to the Night Prayer for my final reflection on how this Monday was lived.  Truly, all might ask, "Did I find a moment to make contact today with God?"  Even if the answer is negative, there is no need to despair.  The mercy and love available to us are always ready to reach in and sanctify each moment.  We are always able to turn to the abundant mercy and grace that brings us into relation with the author of life.  We may learn to see God's grace as "in-breaking" into our world from his completed work of salvation.

And so, at the end of the day I whisper my prayer as words of thanksgiving for all that the Lord of the day has allowed me to see and to be.  I thank God that he has shown me a better way, and I pray only to be able to do his will.  The psalmist prays, "...have mercy...Lord, you are good and forgiving, full of love to all who call."  Faith means having a simple, perhaps even childlike trust (as I recall the lessons I learned from my great aunt who sheltered me and taught me the ways of faith when I was a small child).

Yes, I thank God that today he forgave me--again.  I thank him that he placed the desire in my soul to be humble, so that when asked why I choose to write in such a way that it reveals the secrets of my inner life, I might answer without pride--whatever that answer might be.  I thank God that he has put a song in my heart, one that the years and the occasional trials have not stolen.

Finally I thank God that there was no real burden today, and that I had the chance to kneel in prayer.  I remember long ago a Pentecostal pastor and friend, Noel Coker, a good and decent man who followed God as best he knew, who would spend sometimes hours in prayer before preaching.  I recall his great groaning and calling out the name "Jesus" over and over.  As a young man I desired greatly to be like the holy men I knew.  I saw them as giants in faith, but more I saw their work as being directed unto God.

What a privilege we have to kneel before the Lord's tabernacle and call out the name Jesus.  What a privilege it is to be the recipient of grace and mercy.  It is the great gift of the one whose love never changes in a world bound to grow old and someday be no more.  Night comes--with God's help--as a chance to rest without blame, knowing that we hold no one in judgement but that love above everything is the sign--even the essence--of the new and everlasting covenant.

As Morning Fills the Sky

The prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours this morning begins with the words, "Lord, fill our hearts with your love as morning fills the sky." The metaphor of morning filling the sky resonates somewhere deep in the human psyche. Over the years I have spoken the same words to myself time and again—though perhaps only as a passing mental notation—as I rise and start each new day.

We have been given the ability—it seems—to learn about God through every human experience, regardless how ordinary, even something as mundane as the start of what may prove to be a day characterized by the difficulty of one's labor. Indeed for some it will be a day in which the sun, with its brightness and heat, will present an entirely different sort of meaning.

My reflection, as this Friday morning quickly passes by, has to do with the given of the reality of God in and through all things. Even as I struggle to find the right words while in the background there are numerous sounds and distractions, I can still experience God being communicated to me somehow in all of it.

Wisdom teaches us to find God in the experience of everything, for everything reveals the handiwork of God—everything possesses the power to communicate something of itself or its being—and somewhere between oneself and the object, person, or experience being communicated, lies the holy and divine, giving as love gives, giving meaning and purpose, filling the heart as morning fills the sky. Indeed, the believing heart knows that experience has no end for it comes forth from that which characteristically gives of itself always.

My life would be somehow much less full had I not learned to understand my human experiences as the vehicle of communication for something beyond me. The most important lesson intimated here speaks of being-in-relation to others. Above and beyond the importance of relationships per se there is the aspect of human experience, or self-awareness, that it is always presented to us psychically as being-in-relation to something else. No encounter ever leaves the other untouched or unchanged.

A question arises, but it only serves to point to the endless source of being. From where comes the power to reach into disparate lives and to meld experiences and form a meaningful whole? Every encounter, regardless of how seemingly insignificant, holds within it the love of the one who gives all things to us. Thus everything, from the tiniest to the greatest, holds the power to communicate the being of the giver.

Perhaps it is a greater love that learns to see the communication of the holy in difficult human situations—in things and in others that we might prefer not to know about, and even in that which we might consider as sin or sinner.

Indeed if the love of God is to transform the world, we must allow it to pervade in every possible experience. You and I must ask "What is God telling me in my experience—good or bad—of you?" Or perhaps our question concerns our knowledge of personal failures—they are never isolated, but are always failures in-relation.

Even where there is unbearable pain or great difficulty, such that it screams out to push away others from us, and here I think of death, disease, or perhaps disability, we must learn to recognize God's presence. It is not that such experiences must be present to know God, but that we must know God in them too. Thus we cannot reject any person or situation as unbearable to ourselves or our personal needs. Every experience is given from the depths of being, and thus every experience bears the identifying mark of the divine or holy, which is ours to see potentially.

In our encounter with the morning filling the sky there is a great deal more being said than appears before reflection. A great symphony of meaning unfolds before us each day. We must learn to listen—is this not what prayer truly is? Is this not truly the realized answer to the words "fill our hearts O' Lord?" Truly, the Lord will fill our hearts for they are hearts made to hold him.

Catholic Charities Caught Procuring Abortion

Just when I thought that I had heard it all, and just when I had decided that I might leave the news and opinions to someone else and concentrate on spirituality instead at my blog, the news breaks that Commonwealth Catholic Charities (Virginia) has allegedly helped a 16-year-old illegal immigrant to procure an abortion.  You can get the story here; however, since it's on AP I won't bother to copy and paste anything.  Hopefully they won't mind the link too much.

Not only has Commonwealth Catholic Charities gotten itself into a predicament, according to the story it also has involved the USCCB overall, which reportedly receives 7.6 million a year to place unaccompanied illegal immigrant children in foster care. Furthermore, federal law prevents the use of its funding for abortions except in cases of incest and rape or when the life of the mother is in danger should the pregnancy continue.  Evidently none of these were part of the case involved.

Still, we don't expect to hear of this from any organization that has "Catholic" as a part of it name--especially not from Catholic Charities, which over the years I have personally grown to respect a great deal.  Needless to say, the story is a great disappointment.

Indeed the only way I can describe learning of this news is say that I am completely shocked, but somehow not too surprised.  For me it's an indication of a mindset that I have frequently encountered in social services (even in Catholic circles) that leans toward replacing traditional values with those of the current relativistic world view.  Sadly, you can find it just about anywhere that you care to look deep enough.

If there's a lesson it has to do with those things we have been taught to value as a part of our tradition.  Get tough, dig your heels in, and say *no* (explicative optional) to the attitude that says everything is okay with our world (and its values) and that we just need to have a positive outlook.  Quite the contrary, our world is in need of the gospel message more now than any time in history--the battle rages all around.  It may be the Irish in me, but I'm feeling a little scrappy.

The Turning of Days

Night falls and the day comes full circle again. Those who began the day with the Office of Readings were greeted with the psalmist's refrain, "I will sing for ever of your love O Lord…" Truly, the refrain echoes a love song in the soul, and what better way to begin the day than singing of the Lord's love. It is a song in which we may lose ourselves—the only song there has ever been: it is the heartbeat of the universe; the coming and going of days. Forever, I will sing of your love, yes forever and ever.

The breviary has the ability to tell a story. Like the copy of the Rite of Baptism kept in the sacristy cabinet, which is stained on certain pages from the sacred oils, so too my breviary has begun to show signs of wear. They range from raindrop stains on the gold leaf border—I still remember being caught in the rain on a dark and thundering morning—to crumpled pages that mark the invitatory and the morning and evening gospel canticles.

The turning of pages mirrors the turning of days. Funny that we too show the same kinds of signs, spots that were once not there; crumpled wrinkles from bright hot summer days—perhaps a smile given to a child time and time again.

Each morning offers the opportunity to cry out unto the Lord, "Turn your ear and give answer." We too pray and identify with the scripture in our need and in our blessing—we too pray "I am poor and needy. Preserve my life." However, I also cry out in thanksgiving—in love. I have no other way to be, Lord, for you have made me to be thus. I cry out knowing that regardless of how much I want today to be like a gentle passing breeze, it somehow will not be what I intend.

As I turn each page I have grown to have the habit of moving the ribbon ahead as I read. Those familiar with the Liturgy of the Hours know that it involves moving around quite a bit within the book. This morning I found it strangely coincidental that a ribbon I thought I had already moved was a full two pages behind where I was in the prayer. It was almost like I was being directed to go back take a second look. The words that caught my eye were simply "I cry to you all the day long. Give joy to your servant, O Lord, for to you I lift up my soul."

The words may not appear to be really connected to anything in particular, but I have found that God speaks to us often in ways that do not immediately startle us. The message is that we participate communally—the whole Church—in a great crying out to the one who not only is able to answer our prayers completely, but also who is able to infuse the power of love into our souls.

He is the source of every grace granted. Indeed every action belongs to him, but I yield—called to be a laborer with him—yet mysteriously it is he who acts totally. Even when I lift my voice out of failure, the realization of an utter and complete missing the mark, he acts upon me: he urges me to listen. Do you hear? His voice is as soft as a lone passing cloud. Did you hear it?

Later tonight—much later likely—as I prepare to end the day with sleep, may the words of the psalmist again be in my soul, "In you, O Lord, I take refuge… Be a rock of refuge for me." Indeed the Lord is our rock: there is no other rock for all other foundations must be built on the one foundation of Christ's life and sacrifice for us. His refuge is like a cavern, a place of safety from the passing storm that rages all around. He is the rock that inspires us to say "I believe." He is peace; a resting place without equal.

Really we can only begin to contemplate his love—his agape for us, which I long ago intuited as the only source of lasting love in a world of ephemeral realities. Even the solid and lasting love a good marriage will see its day and someday pass to memory and then as the generations come and go like the turning of pages, it too will be forgotten.

Yet there is that which will never be forgotten; it is that of which we sing, of which—and to whom—we cry aloud daily. He is that eternal morning, the resurrection. He is the day on which we will be judged, the seer of souls and the knower of hearts, our rest, our refuge, our good night. He invites us to know him, not simply in the turning of days, but as the turning of days.

Vision

How lovely is your dwelling place,

Lord, God of hosts….

They are happy who dwell in your house,

for ever singing your praise.

They are happy, whose strength is in you,

in whose hearts are the roads to Zion.

As they go through the Bitter Valley,

they make it a place of springs…

From Psalm 84

As I read the words above, as I prayed them this morning as part of the Morning Prayer, they seemed to have a certain power over me. They inspired in me a sacred vision—a vision of what could be.

The psalmist tells of a particular kind of happiness; it is a well-being that accompanies the state of mind and state of heart of the one who chooses to make the abode of the Most High his or her dwelling.

Too often, it seems, this journey leads through a bitter valley. Who among us has not felt the sorrows that our times, unlike any other before, have the power to tell? Yet we are to be the ones who make this Vale of Tears into a place springing with an abundance of life and refreshing waters.

Indeed I am inspired to meet life with the attitude of one who walks in God's favor—even the darkest and most unpromising possibilities for a future cannot shake the one in whom there is faith, even the one who has hope, the one who has been given the gift of courage too. For all of these I still pray, for I still see with my eyes and frequently, realistically, I am tempted to doubt.

The Canticle from Isaiah sings the familiar refrain:

They shall beat their swords into plowshares

and their spears into pruning hooks

Putting together the Psalm and the Canticle gives rise to the vision. They inspire us to look ahead to a future of peace in a world where we take the gift of knowledge, even our vast technologies, and apply them to making a simple world where we work the ground and share with each other; a world where we no longer pollute nor are we polluted by the forces of destruction. We instead look to a world in which there is plenty, a place of healing, a place of patience, of acceptance, of fortitude, and wisdom. We look to a world where we can live and die in dignity—ever looking to eternal life.

Sure, it's late in the day for me to reflect on the Morning Prayer but evening always tells of the coming dawn, of a morning still bright with hope.

Fewer Baptists Being Baptized

Here's a story that I find interesting, and it's also one that I anticipated in many ways.  It does not surprise me that fewer Baptists are being baptized. 

I'm coming at the story from the perspective of a convert--one who was, in fact, baptized at a Baptist congregation years ago.  It's an event that I remember well, having been a 12-year-old at the time, and it's an event that I refer to frequently--at least in a personal interior way--and it's something I find as a source of spiritual wealth.  My baptism was for me an individual choice that I made.  It marked a true milestone in my life in that my parents had entirely left it up to me to decide when and where I chose to be baptized.

It only matters a little to me that my own baptism occurred outside the Catholic Church--the right elements were there.  The Trinitarian formula and water came together with the knowledge that my sins were being forgiven.  Sure, if I had approached the Catholic Church for baptism I know that I certainly would have been catechized better to understand what truly takes place in baptism, and this also is the source of my not being surprised too much that Baptist baptisms are down.

As I was growing up, baptisms and being Baptist went hand in hand--as did baptism and being Pentecostal, perhaps a good topic for a future post, given my move to pentecostalism in my latter teenage years.  However, a trend I've noticed among my evangelical neighbors is to downplay the importance of baptism.  For them baptism is not necessary for salvation, and certainly not a sacrament, in fact sacraments and sacramentality are outright denied by evangelicals.  For years now I have been aware that baptism, for Baptists, like marriage, is considered to be merely an "ordinance" rather than a sacrament.

In recent years I have noticed that large Baptist congregations are dropping the word "Baptist" from their name.  I believe that the practice is intended to attract members who desire non-denominational, bible church, or evangelical Christianity that is not aligned explicitly with an organization or denomination.  I recall seeing a story--unfortunately no longer available--in the local newspaper where a whole congregation had members who were unaware that they were actually Baptists.  Some left upon making the discovery and for others it didn't make a difference.

While the differences are sometimes unclear--I once asked an evangelical minister what the difference was between them and Baptists and I was told "Well, I'm not exactly sure there is a difference"--a difference that I do know of has to do with the importance of new Christians being baptized.  When I was 12 I was told that since I had decided to accept Jesus I needed to be baptized, and not much more of an explanation was given.  What I see on the web pages of many evangelical, non-denominational, or bible churches, is that baptism is not necessary.

What a pity that those who desire salvation are denied the means to it.  I also have to wonder whether evangelicals would take the same position if the Catholic teaching (in an alternate universe of course) was that baptism was not necessary.  Sometimes when discussing issues of doctrine with opponents to Catholicism I feel like I'm trying to get a donkey to move out of the road.  Here, I sense, doctrine is precisely the issue, and perhaps that Baptist identity is giving way to a more general identification with simply being "evangelical."

INDIANAPOLIS (Reuters) - Baptisms in the Southern Baptist Convention have fallen to a 20-year low, a trend that is setting off alarm bells in America's largest evangelical denomination.

The number of people baptized in Southern Baptist churches and ceremonies, an important indicator of conversions and denominational growth, fell in 2007 for the third year in a row by 5 percent to 345,941.

That was the lowest number since 1987, a trend on the minds of many of the 7,000 delegates known as "messengers" attending the SBC's annual meeting in Indianapolis.

This year's theme is called "Fulfilling the Mission" and the logo pointedly depicts a picture of a baptism in progress.

For Southern Baptists, a decline in baptisms is a worry because a major tenet of their faith is to spread it. Many believe the "unchurched" are doomed to an eternity in hell.

"We should always be concerned when baptisms dip. It's about salvation. ... We are commanded to go and preach the gospel to every person," said Tommy French, a 77-year-old pastor from Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

Several delegates interviewed by Reuters expressed their concern in such terms: fewer baptisms meant fewer saved souls. For Southern Baptists, a public baptism in water is a key rite of the conversion experience.

The trend of falling baptisms also has broader cultural and political implications as the 16-million member SBC is a big part of the Republican Party's conservative Christian base.

 Twenty-five percent of U.S. adults now count themselves as "born-again" or evangelical Christians, making the movement one of the fastest growing and most influential in America. A slowdown in its growth could have a ripple effect on politics and other areas of American life.

Several Southern Baptists interviewed took it as an unhealthy sign of "weakness" or misguided attempts to find accommodation with the broader secular culture that some regard as corrupting and even satanic.

"We are using corporate-style marketing and worship services. It's a performance orientation that lacks authenticity," said J.D. Perry, also from Baton Rouge.

For SBC evangelist Jim McNiel of St. Louis, the drop in baptism numbers was a sign that the biblical "end times" described in the Book of Revelation were drawing near.

"I see two factions. You have one for believers but you also have a faction from Satan and there is a strong battle looming," he said.

Continue

Secondary Drowning

This week I have actually been preparing myself to blog this summer on topics other than autism and disability--I still have the intention of writing on scripture and spirituality this summer; however, another story caught my eye--one that had a tragic ending. 

I'm including this on ddw.org for a couple reasons: first, I want to create awareness this summer of something that many, if not most of us, may not have been aware.  Secondly, I believe as Christians we share a spiritual good when we pray for the dead and for their family members who mourn.

I don't know that it really has much of anything to do with the story that the little boy had autism--it's just that those of us who are parents of autistic children share a special connection that goes as deep as the heart.  It only reminds me of all the times through the passing of summers that I've watched my Dominic splashing around at the pool.  I know that kids with autism have to be watched--protected--more than typically developing kids.  Sometimes, watching doesn't help.  I guess that's why I always ask for the guardian angels to be near:

As Cassandra Jackson watched her 10-year-old son Johnny splash around in their neighborhood pool last week, she had no reason to believe anything was wrong -- let alone that her son was slowly drowning.

"He seemed to be fine," Jackson, 41, told ABCNEWS.com from her home in Goose Creek, S.C. "I noticed nothing out of the ordinary, other than him taking a little bit of water in and coughing and then calming down."

Jackson estimated that Johnny had been in the pool for 45 minutes and had been wearing floatation devices on each arm, in addition to being monitored by an adult in the pool, as well as herself and a friend watching from pool chairs nearby.

But less than two hours after getting out of the pool, Johnny had defecated in his pants twice and was complaining of being tired.

After being bathed and dressing himself, Johnny walked to his bed unaided, leading his mother to believe that he was simply tired from playing in the water.

But shortly after leaving him to nap, Jackson discovered her son unconscious and his face covered in a foam-like substance.

"My friend went back into the room where Johnny was sleeping and noticed what appeared to be cotton balls stuffed in his nose," Jackson said of what turned out to be the foam from his nose and mouth. "She asked if I put them there and I said no -- I went in and saw him and screamed for help.

"I rolled him over and his body was very limp and I realized he'd soiled himself again and was very purplish-blue looking," said Jackson, who then called 9-1-1. "His tongue was really swollen, too."

Johnny suffered from cardiac arrest on the way to the hospital, his mother said, and was pronounced dead upon arrival.

Berkeley County Coroner Glenn Rhoad examined Johnny's body after the incident and told ABCNEWS.com that the preliminary autopsy showed the cause of death was asphyxiation due to drowning. Rhoad added that the boy had a lot of water in his lungs.

While Johnny had been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder and autism, there is no reason to believe that either condition had anything to do with his death, the coroner said.

Continue reading

Johnny, sleep in peace.  May the Lord Jesus who loved little children hold you forever in his arms.

Autistic Student Voted Out of Class

Here's another one--must be the season.  I believe that as Christians we have a moral responsibility to promote justice, which means advocating and taking a stand where and when we find injustices.  Part of that is working to create awareness also, and to point out injustices where they occur.

Often we must accept the difficult task of being pushed far out of our comfort zone to protect the rights and human dignity of the weakest members of our society.  When it comes down to where I want to stand on the day of judgment, I'd rather have it said that I opted to take the side of the poor little ones--whatever the cost.

Officials say they've reassigned a kindergarten teacher whose Port St. Lucie, Fla., class "voted out" a 5-year-old boy who is being tested for a form of autism.

After the boy misbehaved last week, teacher Wendy Portillo "decided to bring him in front of the class and let the other kids tell him what they didn't like about him, kind of ridiculed him," Michelle Steele, a police spokeswoman, tells the Palm Beach Post.

The newspaper says students then voted 14-2 in favor of having the boy removed from Portillo's classroom.

"He was incredibly upset," Melissa Barton, the boy's mother, says in an interview with the Port St. Lucie News. "The only friend he has ever made in his life was forced to do this."

A school spokeswoman says Portillo has been removed from the classroom pending the outcome of an internal review.

Source

Resurrection Faith

In today's gospel Jesus encounters the Sadducees, who were known for their denial of the resurrection. They approach Jesus with a logical trap, to which he quickly points out both their lack of faith, and their lack of understanding of the scriptures.

I find it interesting that among Christians most would profess a strong belief in the resurrection of the dead—certainly, not to claim that we understand the how of the resurrection in a way that conforms to the logic that governs the modes of thought in day to day existence. Nevertheless we believe and inwardly we intuit that there is a particular logic at work that is unlike anything else in the world. It is the logic of faith.

Even non-Christians and people who do not identify themselves with religion often will express a strong belief in the afterlife.

Now the more important point to consider today, when we look at the first reading from St. Paul's letter to St. Timothy, is that we are to take the gift faith, that which allows us to believe in the resurrection of the dead, and apply it to things in this life that we might find despairing.

If we believe God has the power to raise the dead, then why can we not see that he also has the power to give courage, not only to bear whatever hardships life throws our way but to live in such a manner that the power of God is evident? Through the blood of Christ outpoured God has made us into a righteous people, a holy nation that is able to discern and carry out the will of God.

Faith makes us ready to bear hardships. What this means is that faith provides us with the means to encounter our world and change it for God—to encounter people, perhaps even those whom we may find to be repulsive or those who inspire fear in us.

Our Lord may ask us to step into situations of which we would never dream. He may ask us to tolerate that which we find intolerable. He only asks us to be his instruments in transforming the world. Really, is it any more unreasonable or illogical to believe in this possibility than it is to believe in the resurrection of the dead?

Adam's Pew

Following my post this morning on the story of Adam Race being banned from his parish, I was alerted to an organized response already underway called Adam's Pew.

You may follow the link above or read the excerpt below.  Part of the story that I did not include in my blog  earlier today hinted that something was underway already in the way of support for the Race family. One family, the Rupps, brought their autistic daughter from St. Paul to occupy the pew where Adam normally sat. 

Libby Rupp reportedly said that she feels that the case against Adam is mostly about not understanding autism.  While she said that she can understand why some people might be uncomfortable around Adam, she never felt in danger around him. 

I have to reiterate, having been around people with autism for a number of years now, that much of what is needed is simply understanding, and perhaps a shadowing ministry in the parish.  For going on four years now my wife and I have provided a similar ministry, although it is for providing religious education for children with cognitive disabilities, including autism, rather than shadowing at Mass.

Indeed tolerance and understanding will go a long way, and it is true that autism does not typically manifest itself as a small boy flapping his hands and talking quietly to himself.  Sometimes people with autism are loud; sometimes they urinate on themselves or in a public place depending on their severity.  Sometimes they hit others and sometimes they bolt and run.  I've seen it all, and I've seen it all in my son too.  Nevertheless, I want to welcome people with autism at my parish.  I want it to be known that kids with disabilities can serve alongside me at the altar--and it's true that they do even now.

Last Sunday before Mass started I noticed a child in the congregation on the very back row wearing what looked like sound-proof headphones.  She was having a royal fit as we were getting started and she continued to scream right through my homily, but funny enough people didn't seem to be bothered and neither was I.  God must granted us all a bit of peace.  I'm really glad that child was there.  Word has gotten out that St. Thomas More parish is autism friendly--I pray we keep it that way.

Here's the excerpt from Adam's Pew:

Adam's Pew is a response to the highly publicized May 2008 story in which Adam Race, a 13-year-old boy with autism, was banned from his church.  Adam’s parents received a restraining order from their home parish of 12 years.  Every Sunday for years, his family sat in the last pew.  This pew was reserved, at Adam’s family’s request.  The arrangement lessened any disruptions Adam’s symptoms may have produced.

When news of the restraining order spread, several families of children with autism pledged to occupy the pew every Sunday until the Race family was restored to their faith community.  It will take most of the families several hours to reach the Church in the small town of Bertha, Minnesota.  Currently, the restraining order remains in effect and the Race family will soon enter into mediation.  Their goal is to once again become welcome in their home parish.

Adam Race’s story has inspired passionate discussion among countless people regarding the various facets of this case.  Nationally and beyond, many families are not attending church because they don’t feel welcome.  The story’s quick spread points to a profound need to establish an atmosphere of welcome and acceptance in churches everywhere.  Thus, Project: Adam's Pew was created. 

Without much planning, effort or cost, Project: Adam’s Pew is a simple tool for church leaders.  Through broadening awareness, a church can reach out to those feeling previously unwelcome and those hesitant to attend church services due a family member’s disability.  Project: Adam’s Pew is not meant to replace or compete with other inclusion programs developed by many denominations throughout the country.