Picture this scene. It is 2 a.m. on Christmas morning. The weather is dry but cold. Most people are sleeping comfortably in their warm beds. Children are restless as they anxiously await Santa. Christmas Day, a time of peace and joy.

Suddenly out of the stillness of the cold dark morning the shouts of a young mother ring out. She is crying out for help. She is looking for a safe refuge. She has become homeless and she feels very vulnerable.

This is not fiction. It happened outside Mountjoy Prison on this Christmas morning. The woman in question had been granted temporary release a few days earlier to spend Christmas with her young child. Unfortunately, her circumstances became so miserable and unbearable that she had little alternative but to return to Mountjoy to spend Christmas in prison.

Hers is not a unique story. I know so many young women in similar circumstances who frequent prison. All live lives of absolute misery.

Now picture a second scene. It is just after 1 p.m. on Christmas Day. The roads passing through Ballsbridge are busy as cars speed by. People rushing to visit their families and close friends, Christmas presents to be exchanged. Christmas, a time for sharing.

On Anglesea Road crowds of mostly middle-aged and elderly men and women exit the Royal Dublin Society (RDS). All are carrying white or blue plastic bags.

They look out of place in the heart of Dublin 4. What are they doing in the RDS on Christmas Day? Was it a show, or an exhibition, or was it Funderland? No, they were there for their free Christmas dinner, provided and served to them by a group of kind and caring people. The plastic bags contained little gifts presented to them as they left, for many of them their only worldly goods.

They were now on their way . . . but they were mostly homeless. The best part of their day was already over. It was still only the early afternoon. They were now left to wander aimlessly through our streets and roads. Loneliness would be a big part of their day.

Where does the young mother who returned to prison for Christmas Day and the many hundreds of homeless people, young and old, fit into our modern, sophisticated, articulate and politically correct society? Is this the side of modern Ireland we refuse to see or to hear?

The reality is that many of our poor, socially disadvantaged and addicted are treated like social lepers, and most of us contribute to their exclusion and stigmatisation. And many immigrants face a chilly reception among us. Hypocrisy is alive and well in modern Ireland.

There is no denying that economically we have made magnificent progress over the past few years, and today many of us are benefiting from our new-found wealth. The evidence is widespread, beautiful modern houses all equipped with the latest hi-tech conveniences, posh cars, designer-label clothes and lifestyles evolving around foreign travel and holidays, high-class entertainment, home help, the weekly upmarket shopping expeditions (our latest addiction) and, of course, the Internet.

Indeed, many of our more affluent people have now reached the stage where they are unable to distinguish between luxury and necessity. Of course, this is the image of contemporary Ireland we love to project.

However, as a people we have become almost obsessed with money and self-interest; everything, including our time, is costed and measured in money. The old Irish philosophy and tradition of caring and sharing is being replaced by a new code of making and taking for ourselves.

The assumption that an economic boom will automatically benefit all social classes is false. Those who are adequately equipped with the necessary levels of education, skills, talents and knowledge will always be best placed to take full advantage of all the opportunities created by an economic boom.

Equally, those who are not equipped will continue to lose out. Indeed, one of the most negative consequences of our recent boom has been the alarming gap which has been allowed to develop between rich and poor.

The situation is further fuelled by another human weakness summarised by the maxim "The more we have the more we want". The end result is that currently we have a two-tier society. It must concern us all.

The most significant influence on our lives is where and to whom we are born. For example, is it just a coincidence that the overwhelming number of Irish prisoners come from our most disadvantaged areas and our most dysfunctional families? Contrast this with the almost zero representation from our more affluent areas.

The reality is that children born to parents who are poorly educated, unemployed and often unemployable, addicted, violent, aggressive, inadequate and incapable of forming and sustaining loving relationships begin life as seriously disadvantaged.

When one adds the negative influences of peer pressure and the usual negative culture endemic to social disadvantage - mainly crime, violence and drugs - their future is even more bleak.

Again, contrast this to the quality of care and the numerous opportunities presented to children born into stable homes with capable and loving parents, where education is valued and where the child's skills and natural talents are nurtured.

And finally, our attitudes towards the socially disadvantaged must be challenged. How do we see the young children struggling to survive in our ghettos? Do we show them respect and encourage and support them in every way, or do we see and treat them as losers and inferiors destined to become the next generation of social lepers?

Certainly the aspirations as outlined in the 1916 Proclamation to cherish all our children equally is still, as it was then, just an aspiration.

As we begin the run-in to the new millennium, we must accept responsibility for the many injustices ingrained in our society. We must be in for the long haul and we must all make sacrifices. The social and economic exclusion of so many will only be solved when those who have are prepared to share with those who have not. I live in hope.

Series concluded