Those who act in self-indulgent ways, thinking only of themselves, are easily led to sin. Those who look outward, putting the needs of others before their own, are less likely to fall into temptation and sinful behaviors.

That is why the proof of one's Christianity is not how often we go to church, but how we treat others. That is how Jesus will judge us: "Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me. What you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me." (Matt. 25:31-43)

This Gospel forms the basis for what the Church calls the "corporal works of mercy." Corporal means of the body, or physical. We don't hear much about them anymore, but these are a list of seven physical needs that Christians are called to alleviate in others:

• To feed the hungry
• To give drink to the thirsty
• To clothe the naked
• To visit the imprisoned
• To give shelter to the homeless
• To visit the sick
• To bury the dead.

How well are we doing these things? Do we even see the hungry and thirsty, the naked and homeless? Chances are we don't, unless we specifically go looking for them downtown or uncomfortably encounter them at traffic lights in certain neighborhoods. Despite our economic prosperity, the hungry and thirsty, the naked and homeless, still live among us. How can we minister to them?

Many of our churches have volunteers who go out to downtown streets once a week bearing sandwiches, drinks and even home-cooked meals for the homeless. Other parishes are involved in Habitat for Humanity, which builds homes for people who otherwise could not afford one.

You might want to think about joining such a ministry, and bringing your children along so that they can learn about the needs of those who are less fortunate.

Or you might want to support an organization that feeds, clothes and shelters the homeless, such as Camillus House. Other groups take care of the physical needs of the poor in other nations, including our own Catholic Charities, which works closely with its international counterparts, Caritas and Catholic Relief Services.

Amor en Acción is another local group which ministers directly to the poor in the Dominican Republic and in our sister diocese of Port-de-Paix, Haiti. So is Food for the Poor, a Deerfield-based group which helps the poor throughout the Caribbean.

Groups such as these can do the work, but they need your financial support. Perhaps you can also contribute to our Vision 2000 campaign, which will enable Catholic Charities to do more for the poor and homeless around us.

Sending money, of course, is not the answer when someone has died or when a person is ill or in prison. A personal visit is necessary to comfort those who are sorrowing in this way. We do that for friends and relatives, but how about for strangers?

Most parishes have ministries to the sick and bereaved, and the archdiocese sponsors a ministry to those in prison. Catholic Hospice constantly seeks volunteers to minister to the terminally ill and their families.

These ministries call for unique pastoral skills and require some training. But perhaps you have just the right personality and affinity for these types of ministry. I urge you to consider volunteering your time.

These seven corporal works of mercy are not the only situations where Christians can show their love for their fellow human beings. Everyday we find ourselves in circumstances where we are called to help others. We should be alert for those moments, and be aware that it is Christ himself we are ministering to.

Indeed, the corporal works of mercy should not be viewed as obligations for Christians, but as the inevitable consequence of the faith we profess. For as Jesus told us, "whatever you do for the least of my brothers and sisters, you do for me."

The Church celebrates the feast of the Holy Family on the first Sunday following Christmas. The feast of the Holy Family was extended to the universal Church in 1921, to serve as a reminder to us that Jesus lived a real human life. The Gospels have just a few references to Christ's "hidden" life at Nazareth with Mary and Joseph. We are told that he "was obedient to them" and that Jesus, for His part, progressed steadily "in wisdom and age and grace before God and men" (Luke 2:52).

How appropriate that Jesus should begin His earthly life in a family. The word "family" comes from the Latin word "famulus" which means "servant." To be in a family is to serve faithfully — as Jesus did. Pope John Paul II has said, "The Church considers serving the family to be one of her essential duties. In this sense both man and the family constitute ‘the way of the Church'" ("Letter to Families," 2).

The Holy Family models for us what family life should exemplify. It is a school of virtue for both parents and children. There we find God, and learn how to connect with God and with others. The family is where love is freely given without self-interest. It is where we learn to love, to pray and to practice the gift of charity. Pope John Paul II has said, "The family, more than any other human reality, is the place in which the person is loved for himself and in which he learns to live the sincere gift of self" (November 27, 2002).

We should ask ourselves if our own families model that of the Holy Family. We need to be open to God's grace to value the positive and to accept our mistakes — and to be willing to rectify them. Parenting is a very challenging responsibility and at times errors are made despite the best intentions. Recognizing this, children should trust their parents and never forget that parents want only what is best for them.

Which leads us to what may be the most important family virtue — forgiveness. Living so intimately within the family nucleus naturally gives rise to unpleasant situations where someone is apt to be offended. St. Paul knew this when he told us to "bear with and forgive one another." The health of our family may depend on how quickly we learn to forgive without harboring feelings of resentment.

No family can thrive and grow without constant work. Even the material details that take time and effort are essential to keeping the family strong. Everyone has to pull together for the good of the family — even to the point of putting ahead of our own needs and ambitions the happiness of other family members, setting aside our own selfish desires.

It is also important to pray as a family, especially the holy rosary. Prayer will help us to intensify our closeness with each other and to learn to forgive.

During this Year of the Eucharist it is essential to discover the relationship between the Eucharist and family life. Pope John Paul II wrote, "In the eucharistic gift of charity the Christian family finds the foundation and soul of its communion and its mission" ("Letter on the Family," No. 57).

Let us ask our Blessed Mother Mary, mother and queen of every Christian family, and St. Joseph, just and faithful guardian, to sanctify our families with their intercession and to help us to live like the Holy Family — united in respect, forgiveness and love for each other.

May Jesus, through the intercession of our Blessed Mother, grant you all a blessed and joyful Christmas!

The newborn Jesus is placed in an old hut, somewhat in disrepair and crowned with weeds.

For the Son of God came "to rebuild the fallen House of David from its ruins and restore it" (Acts 15: 16).

Two humble shepherds welcome the child.

"For the Lord God says this: I am going to look after my flock myself; I shall rescue them from wherever they have been scattered; I shall look for the lost one, bring back the stray, bandage the wounded and make the weak strong" (Ez 34: 11-16).

Angels, recognizing divinity, surround the child with song as heaven touches earth.

"For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell" (Col 1: 19).

Joseph sits with hands folded and Mary kneels in adoration. Here is mystery:

"The appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ" (Ti 1: 13).

The Child rests gently in the foreground — not yet wrapped in swaddling clothes — exposed and vulnerable.

For the eternal Son of God, "though His state was divine, did not cling to His equality to God, but emptied Himself and became as men are" (Phil 2: 6-7).

Born in Bethlehem, the Son of God enters time and becomes part of every human life.  Into our weak, vulnerable lives, God has come. This is the reason for hope in the midst of suffering and hardship, for joy in the face of conflicts and wars.

Jesus, the Son of the Virgin Mary, the only-begotten Son of the Father, offers "to all who accept Him, the power to become the children of God" (Jn 1:12).

In the painting of Piero della Francesca, many details have been left unfinished. And we are not yet fully what Christ came to make us become.

This Christmas may we discover something more of the grace of Jesus's birth drawing all of us together as God's family in love and peace.

Both the White House and its critics were cool to the group's recommendations. There was nothing new in the reports. And so last week, the White House postponed a planned nationally televised address, which had originally been intended to follow the release of the report.

These events speak volumes about the difficult choices facing the nation, and they remind us that there's no easy solution.

For example, not even the harshest critics of the war believe we can simply pull our troops out of Iraq. As I have said before on "BreakPoint," this would only embolden and strengthen Iran and put the fate of Israel in grave peril.

There is one thing, however, Christians can bring to this discussion. It is the fate of Iraq's Christians. There are an estimated 600,000 to as many as one million Christians in Iraq. They are called "Assyrians" or "Chaldeans," and as these names suggest, they have lived in Iraq since time immemorial. What's more, they are one of the oldest Christian communities in the world, dating back to at least the second century. If any group has an historical claim to their part of Iraq, it's them.

Yet an increasing number of Iraqi Christians have concluded that "there is no future for Christians" in Iraq. As one Christian put it, "We have no militia to defend us."

That matters because, as the New Republic put it, "Sunni, Shia, and Kurd may agree on little else, but all have made sport of brutalizing their Christian neighbors." Since neither Iraqi nor Americans officials are willing to protect them, Christians are leaving their ancestral home.

The extent of this neglect and indifference is on display in the study group's final report: In its eighty-four pages, the word Christian never appears — not once. The words Assyrians and Chaldeans appear only in passing in the next-to-last recommendation as part of a longer list. Not one paragraph, not one sentence.

In contrast, the report makes multiple references to the fate of the Palestinians whom, last time I checked, don't live in Iraq.

Whatever else it represents, the group's report represents the conventional wisdom about Iraq: Figure out who matters and who needs to be made happy or, at least, less upset. So, while Syria and even Iran are accommodated, the well being of Iraqi Christians doesn't figure into the equation at all.

That's outrageous. It's also, as I've told you before, not surprising. Iraq's Christians have been ignored from the start so, in that sense, nothing has changed. What has changed is that we may leave without securing their future, and there would be a genocide of Christians.

American Christians can't sit by and let this happen. Their blood would be upon our hands. And to abandon our brethren would be grossly immoral and cowardice.

So am I asking you to pray for our leaders and then let them know what you're praying for: the wisdom to find a solution that does justice to all Iraqis, including Christians.

"I'm Father Cummings," the priest said. "I heard you boys were leaving in an hour or so. I wonder if I could go with you to Bataan. I'm sure that they will need me there." Father Cummings came along, but once there, Stewart lost track of him.

Then in April 1942, the Japanese captured Stewart's unit. "Yahura!" the guards yelled. "Start moving!" The infamous Bataan Death March had begun. Denied food and water and abused by their captors, thousands died.

A POW camp awaited survivors. There, as sadistic guards lined them up in the hot sun, Stewart felt a cool hand on his shoulder. It was Father Cummings! He was desperately thin, but radiated gentleness. Looking into the hopeless faces all around him, the priest muttered, "I must work harder. These men need me." That evening, the men listened as he spoke of God simply and directly. As Stewart recalls in his book, Give Us This Day, God "became a real presence beside us. We felt Him there."

In 1944, the prisoners were packed into the hold of a ship bound for Japan. Given no food or water, some, driven mad by thirst, cut the throats of their comrades and drank their blood. Events took a tragic turn when American pilots attacked the ship. Yet that night, over screams of pain and cries for water, there came a gentle voice: "Listen to me, men! You must listen to me." And then he began to pray. "Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…"

Each night Father Cummings, sick and weak, prayed — and each night, sanity returned to the hold. Stewart wrote, "I looked forward every hour for night to come, when Father Cummings stood and said his prayer again. It was the only strength I had."

Finally a night came when the priest was too weak to stand. Stewart propped him up, and he slowly began to pray. "Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name…"

The cries of the men became still. "Thy will be done — on earth — as it is — in Heaven." A spasm of pain shook the priest, and he gasped for air. And then, with superhuman effort, he spoke one last time. "Give us this day…"

His body relaxed, and he was gone. But the memory of his sacrificial love sustained Stewart in the terrible months ahead.

This story reveals the reality of Christ's incarnation. Father Cummings volunteered, giving up everything to serve. He endured pain and suffering with the troops and brought the presence of God into a man-made hell on earth.

Jesus calls us to live His incarnation as well, to bring His presence into jobs, prisons, hospitals, and neighborhoods. By His grace we can follow Him, even into a nightmare of hell on earth, as Father Cummings did. "As the Father sent me," Jesus said, "so I send you."

These first believers are the subject of an imaginative Christmas novel by Richard M. Barry, titled The Shepherds' Prayer. The book tells the story of an adopted son with a mysterious connection to the Messiah, who seeks the truth about his birth thirty years later. The man, Anam, travels to Bethlehem, where contempt is apparent on the faces of the townspeople when they hear the name Jesus.

Anam also meets a band of shepherds who gather at Bethlehem each year to celebrate what they witnessed upon the birth of Christ.

The Shepherds' Prayer is a story that reminds us of two things. First, we remember that the humble will be lifted up and confound the wisdom of the wise. Recounting the story the shepherds told, an innkeeper in Bethlehem tells Anam, "Is that not the height of foolishness? Why would an angel of the Most High visit such lowly men? …if he were to send a messenger, would it not be to the important men? To those with power?"

Secondly, Barry's novel reminds us of perhaps how we often react to the difficult and painful circumstances in our lives. We can use only what C.S. Lewis called the "baptized imagination" in contemplating how many people of Bethlehem must have felt about Jesus' birth. Likely, as Barry imagines, those who spoke of Jesus and that fateful day of His birth were met with scorn from those in Bethlehem and the surrounding area, because His birth had brought bloodshed.

But if we accept the truth, it is the evil of men — specifically Herod, in this case — that led to the slaughter of innocents. Similarly, it is the fallenness of the world that leads to pain and hardship in our lives — not God. Jesus was born to reconcile men to God, to end this pain, and to bring peace.

But as my colleague theologian T.M. Moore has written, from the beginning, Christ also brought division into the world. "The Good News of Christmas," writes T.M., "is for those who trust in Christ and follow Him as fishers of men. For all the rest — all the liars, deceivers, oppressors, greedy, covetous, and selfish — the message of Christmas is one of shame, wrath, and judgment." That's the hard truth of Christmas, but one we must not forget.

The shepherds who first believed in Jesus likely faced oppression and were treated as outcasts. Like them, we must maintain our faith regardless of the world's reaction. And we must never water down the message of Christ's birth.

On behalf of all of us here at BreakPoint, this is Chuck Colson from Washington, D.C., wishing you a holy and merry Christmas.

You see it in restaurants and stores, as waitresses pour your last cup of coffee, or shop clerks hand you your receipt. Suddenly, it's there, in their eyes — that quick re-routing of the seasonal synapse, reminding them to say, "Happy Holidays," and not… well, you know.

Orders from the boss, probably. Or maybe they just figured out, as we all do, what's politically correct or socially gauche, and edited themselves accordingly.

So you smile indulgently, or maybe gently trump their expression with your own, "Merry Christmas!" And you feel rather good about yourself, as you slip out of your booth or turn from the register to go — and just then, if you're listening, you'll notice: that song, playing lightly overhead, is "What Child Is This?" Or "Silent Night."

It's that way all through December. Ironies abound. The same stores that frown on saying "Christmas" play carols ‘round the clock. Leftists lecture us on the importance of keeping the season secular, or at least ecumenical — the only way to make it a holiday for everybody is to make it a day about nothing.

But once the lecture is finished, many of those same Scrooges slip into their cars and turn up Bing Crosby, crooning "Adeste Fideles" or "The Little Drummer Boy." They'll go home to set out angels and manger scenes and poinsettias, and fill card after card with scrawling, heartfelt prayers for peace on earth and love and hope.

And most will never trip over their own double standard, or marvel at the gap between what they profess, publicly, and what they yearn to believe, in their hearts.

In Miracle on 34th Street, the D.A., Thomas Mara, trying hard to plant Kris Kringle in a funny farm, is asked point blank by Kringle's lawyer whether or not he himself believes in Santa Claus. The doubting Thomas falls suddenly silent. His little boy is sitting in the courtroom. Locking up St. Nick is one thing — banishing his son's fond faith is another.

Something like that, I believe, happens in many a heart this time of year. Lots of people, for whatever reason, want to lock religious faith away and be done with it. Trouble is, they also yearn to keep some enduring hope alive — and, in the end, God is the only One sturdy enough to pin the hope on.

So there's the rub: "holiday" is too thin a gruel to feed a hungry soul, but "Christmas" carries implications many don't want to deal with. Changing seasons is one thing; changing your life is another.

Interestingly, even those disinclined to defer to the divinity of Jesus Christ concede that He was a remarkable man — that his teachings were unusually profound and that His life personified those teachings more consistently than anyone else ever has. So what's wrong with recognizing His birthday as His birthday?

Either Jesus truly is the Son of God, and Savior of the world — in which case we surely should celebrate His advent. Or else He was not. In which case, what harm is there in honoring such a magnificent life? Surely if we've cause to commemorate the national impact of George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and Martin Luther King, Jr., we have more than ample reason to celebrate the international import of the greatest teacher and philosopher the world has ever known.

Put another way: to what aspects of Jesus' character and teachings — brotherly love, personal sacrifice, self-denial, kindness, generosity, concern for the poor, courage in the face of death, etc., etc. — do groups like the American Civil Liberties Union so vigorously object?

What are they so terrified that our children will come away with, if we single out Jesus in our classrooms, this time of year? If we breathe His name in a season's greeting? If we recreate the circumstances of His birth on government property?

Are any of the virtues He so richly embodied to be deplored in a citizen of these United States?

Mention Muhammad or Hare Krishna or Buddha or Gandhi in a classroom, and no one starts calling up lawyers. Carve a quote from any of them on the courthouse wall, and civil libertarians will sing of your tolerance and nod in sage approval. No one uses their name in a curse, or shudders to think someone might really believe what they taught.

But two thousand years after He walked this earth, the name of Jesus — the idea of Jesus — still strikes real fear into countless hearts.

More and more, in America, the question of whether it's okay to say "Merry Christmas" is becoming, for many, but a cover for the real question: "Is it okay to believe in Jesus Christ?"

And in classrooms and courtrooms, college lecture halls and shopping malls, military barracks and government buildings all over the country, "Happy Holidays" is our increasingly secularized society's brazen answer to that question.

Because if it's not okay to believe in Him at Christmastime — it's not okay to believe in Him the rest of the year, either.

Alan Sears, a former federal prosecutor who held various posts in the departments of Justice and Interior during the Reagan Administration, is president and CEO of the Alliance Defense Fund, a legal alliance defending the right to hear and speak the Truth through strategy, training, funding, and litigation. He is co-author with Craig Osten of the book The ACLU vs. America: Exposing the Agenda to Redefine Moral Values.

Attempts to convince skeptics of the chasm between man and the rest of the animal world generally take one of several routes. There is the argument from Blessed Mother Teresa: Human beings living at the pinnacle of altruistic love and self-forgetfulness have no match in other species. Sure, animals will die for their young, and domesticated animals may risk their lives for their human families. But humans at their best ratchet heroic selflessness to a much higher degree. They can love other people sacrificially even in the absence of familial, tribal, national or even religious ties. As Blessed Mother Teresa used to put it they can love even "Christ in distressing disguise,": the diseased, addicted, abused, old and unlovely — yes, and the selfish and nasty. This is a height that relatively few humans attain, but no animals that I know of approach. A dog may be loyal to an abusive owner, but hardly to an abusive stranger.

The existence of such people constitutes a compelling argument — perhaps the most compelling argument — for the special status of humanity, but true-blue PETA types seem to believe that dolphins have it in them to equal Blessed Mother Teresa.

So there is the argument from Einstein — meaning not just that we are more intelligent than other species, but that we are uniquely (among earth's creatures) capable of self-awareness, as well as the ability to plan, design, discern long-term cause and effect, perceive mental relationships, draw analogies, develop systems, and even construct arguments for and against Intelligent Design.

This too seems to me a compelling argument. After all, ants create complicated societies, but always the same kind of complicated society. There is no animal equivalent of Montaigne, Locke, Robespierre, Marx or Mao to revolutionize ant colonies, wolf packs, whale pods, or elephant herds.

Still, advocates for the animal kingdom can argue that intelligence is not the basis for value or rights — an argument that we ourselves make on behalf of the unborn and the disabled. And they can theorize (daringly) that other life forms are on a long evolutionary trek toward greater self-awareness and volition, claiming equal rights for them on the basis of this far-off, spectacularly unlikely possibility.

But there is another non-theological argument for the essential distinctiveness of human beings, one that strikes me as unanswerable, and that is the argument from the tabloids, meaning the argument from human psychological dysfunction.

Now, it's true that brain damage can provoke bizarre behaviors in any species equipped with a brain. And it's true that animals (especially domesticated ones) can also suffer from emotional and behavioral dysfunctions (hence the emergence of pet psychologists, who address the unhealthy habits of mistreated, over-indulged, phobic or stressed animals). Take the pampered pet dog who eats itself into an unhealthy state.

But do these obese dogs come to view themselves with disgust or self-loathing, resolve on a diet program, and organize a support group? Do we see them dieting and then rebounding, dieting and then rebounding? Finally, do we find some dogs who move on to the more serious pathology of bulimia or anorexia, or obsessive exercising? Where are the Mary-Kate Olsens, Lindsay Lohans or Nicole Simpsons of the animal world?

Domestic animals exposed to an oversupply of food and an undersupply of healthy activity simply pig out (so to speak) and die early, without demonstrating the kind of struggling toward health and normalcy that most human beings experience at one time or another in regard to our own personal weakness.

Am I suggesting that the diet and exerciser infomercials offer evidence that humans rank at the top of the material world's hierarchy? More modestly, let's just say that they show which species has the greatest need for divine redemption.

Pickens is quite the philanthropist. He's also made large donations to several medical institutions, Katrina relief efforts, and the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library Foundation. His gift to Oklahoma State represents about 10 percent of his $1.6 billion net worth.

In a Daily Oklahoman story, the school's regents chairman called Pickens "John the Baptist." Daily Oklahoman columnist Berry Tramel wrote that "Pickens is more messiah than messenger." Pickens is being lauded for his generosity, which is to be expected. His gift will greatly help many people and contributes to the greater good. It's wonderful news all around (unless you're another Big XII Conference school). I applaud Pickens for his willingness to share his blessings with others.

But this whole thing is tainted. I say that because it's another sign that anonymous giving has gone the way of the wishbone formation. TV spots show NFL players interacting with children; NBA players are shown reading to a class; baseball players are shown giving kids batting tips. The leagues love to play up athletes giving of their time, energy and wealth.

That's great, but advertising one's charity smacks of self-promotion. People crave positive recognition, and being charitable is a quick way to achieve that. So it becomes about the giver instead of about the gift or those it helps.

I'm not saying folks like Pickens are giving purely for selfish reasons. I don't doubt that he truly wants to see OSU's athletic program, and the school as a whole, improve. I'm not questioning the motives of those who enjoy devoting time to helping children become better people. But why is it necessary others know the giver's identity? What does that add to the gift?

Nothing, of course. It only adds to the giver. It adds prestige and respect, and most important, it makes the giver appear "good" in the world's eyes. And when you're trying to achieve goodness apart from Jesus, good works is the natural avenue to that end. It's a fruitless exercise, and a lot of people are going to be disappointed someday when they find out it didn't earn them any favor with God.

We should not rely completely on other humans for provisions. Humans can serve as God's tools for such, but tools should not bring glory to themselves. They instead should consider themselves honored to be used by a gracious, all-loving God.

Christ demands humility of us, and that cannot be achieved by the Pharisaic approach. Good deeds should be seen, but not the hands that perform them. In fact, a distinction should be made between good deeds and loving deeds. No deed that involves selfish interests can be truly loving, no matter how generous or "good." Loving deeds are products of true faith in Christ, and nothing else.

We could not possibly give in greater measure what is offered us by God — salvation that brings about eternal change. It's a gift that's worth a lot more than Pickens or anyone else could afford.