This column normally steers clear of religion, a subject on which many people - including the column's mother - have strong opinions. But on the eve of the third millennium, it would be seriously remiss of it not to offer some thoughts on the general theme.
We live in an age when the triumph of free market economics is virtually complete. When ruthless competition is the norm; when "deregulation" and "choice" are the buzzwords; when almost nothing is allowed to impede the naked pursuit of market share.
And the sad fact is that religion is seriously out of step with this trend. Say what you like, but there is no real competition between the main churches on this island, naked or otherwise, and not much of it in the European Union in general. And, as always, it's the consumer who's suffering.
To give just one example: it's almost impossible to become a Protestant in Ireland, if you're not actually born one. I'm not saying that I want to, but the reality is nobody ever asks. There's no open day, that I'm aware of; and from my short time in college, I don't recall there being a "Church of Ireland Soc." you could join, with the usual introductory offer of free beer.
But, as I say, that's only one example. The truth is that both the main churches in the Republic seem to be happy with a situation where one enjoys the overwhelming majority of market share; while the other concentrates on providing a premium service, with extra leg-room, better hymns and so on.
I know some people might consider it inappropriate to apply the language of economics to religion, but I disagree. The churches in England have already resorted to using advertising companies to attract worshippers; and, anyway, religions have always been in competition with each other to present their superior products.
Indeed, nobody can deny that in past centuries the Vatican classically abused its dominant market position, with unacceptable profit margins from the sale of indulgences, among other things. This was a situation in which Martin Luther's no-frills operation - with its emphasis on eliminating the middleman, fighting excess landing charges, and so on - could only thrive. (Legal Disclaimer: This is a loose air-transport metaphor, and any deeper comparisons between Aer Lingus and/or Aer Rianta and the pre-Reformation papacy are unintended.)
Long-running talks between the Lutheran churches and the Vatican concluded recently with an agreement that the whole split was a big misunderstanding (my grasp of theology is not good, but I think that was the gist of it); a move that possibly opens the way for the creation of a European Christian giant in the 21st century.
Personally, I think the EU competitions authority will step in before this happens. And I believe we should forestall the inevitable directive, by opening the Irish market to competition now; setting a certain proportion aside, with the more aggressive Christian and non-Christian churches invited to apply for franchises.
Of course, we could go with a fixed percentage of the market. But it might be more fun if we designated a geographical area, such as Mayo, and let the evangelists loose. It might not work, but it would be fun while it lasted.
Increased competition between the churches could be a consequence of the Northern peace settlement. But whatever happens - and the Ulster Unionists are deciding even now - I hope we'll soon be able to consider decommissioning the language of the peace process.
This deadly arsenal of cliches - which includes an estimated 40,000 windows of opportunity, 100,000 variations on the theme of moving the situation forward, and perhaps as many as half a million phrases to describe nothing happening, including such notorious items as "log-jam", "stand-off" and, of course, the French-made "impasse" (which was smuggled in, possibly from North Africa, during the early 1990s, but never deployed properly because most peace activists lacked the necessary phonetic training).
And this is only the more recent material. If you go back to the origins of the process, there's any amount of other "stuff" lying around, like those old jokes about "a Carmelite in the one hand . . ." and so on. All right, these have been buried for so long now, they're probably not usable any more; but even so.
I know people will argue that the language of the Civil War era was never formally decommissioned. That, for example, Fianna Fail entered government in the South while retaining phrases such as "Up the Republic" and "get up the yard, ye Blueshirt, ye" - and that these phrases simply fell out of everyday usage, except for sporadic occasions, like when they were fired over the graves of dead comrades.
This is true. But many people won't rest easy until they can safely open their newspapers again without the risk of seeing the phrase "the current impasse". I'm not calling for a ban on the vocabulary, as such, but I do think it needs to be put beyond use. Maybe we could just dump it in a big hole somewhere, and pour concrete over it.
Frank McNally can be contacted at fmcnally@irish-times.ie
