What should be the measure of an Irish Christmas in the penultimate year of the 20th century? It is no longer a reliable indicator of religious commitment. The churches will have capacity congregations over the next 48 hours, welcoming worshippers, many of whom may not darken their doors again until next year. If it is a commercial event, then this year it is a fiesta indeed with more money in circulation than ever before. If it is a family feast, this is a good Christmas too. Keenly-priced air services will help to bring more emigrants home while the booming economy will also enable many to travel abroad to their families. But when the angels sang over Bethlehem on the first Christmas they proclaimed it a time for peace on earth among men of good will. So how does our Irish Christmas measure against that heavenly vision?
There are some grounds for rejoicing. For almost 30 years, the nearest thing to a peaceful Christmas on this island was a temporary cessation of violence over two or three days. For the second Christmas in succession now, the main paramilitary groupings have continued their cease-fires. Revellers can enjoy the season's merriment, shoppers can do their business, the security forces can keep their vigil with a degree of relaxation which, if not total, is in happy contrast with much of the past. Peace is not absolute. Sentiments of good will may be something less than universal. But we are surely edging closer to the Christmas ideal.
It is a difficult time for many, when appeals are made for forgiveness and for reconciliation. And it is a time when the pain of loneliness, bereavement or past injury becomes accentuated. Those who have lost loved ones are entitled to particular compassion at this time, not least the families of victims who have had to endure the additional strain of seeing the prison gates open for those who have inflicted their losses. The prisons will be virtually empty of paramilitary prisoners over Christmas as part of the arrangements under the Belfast Agreement. The grief of Garda families and the disquiet of serving members are understandable. Multiply them several hundred times and southerners can get some intimation of the cumulative pain of the families of security personnel, and others, in the North. Yet, it is impossible not to be uplifted by the courage and the generosity of so many who have suffered loss or injury. One can only marvel at the Omagh bomb survivors, many desperately maimed, expressing the hope that their ordeal can help the peace process and the final ending of violence.
Peace on earth should mean other things too in an Irish Christmas - not merely the absence of gunfire and bombing. It should mean - in this new era of economic achievement - the end of want, of deprivation and of recurring poverty among identifiable sections of our population. To our shame, there will be children in our streets this Christmas searching for a bed. There will be parents who do not have the resources to give presents or a decent Christmas dinner to their children. There will be thousands of - mostly - young men and women, trapped in drug addiction. And there will be those among us who are not Irish, looking for the shelter and security which they have been unable to find in their own countries.
In these - and other - respects, this Irish Christmas may fail the test. But the holiday not only marks the deepest point of winter. It also signifies renewal and the ushering in of a new year - in turn, bringing us to a new century and a new millennium. It is a good time to take stock and to resolve that future Irish Christmases, through good governance, will see greater progress towards the fulfilment, for all, of the great ideal born at Bethlehem.