Meanwhile, in Northern Ireland, so-called marching season is underway. The Orange-vested set are celebrating the Battle of the Boyne, and other ancient victories of Protestants over Catholics.

It seems like march isn’t a march unless it winds its way through the very neighbourhoods where the people whose ancestors you defeated now live. Nothing like taunting your enemy for all eternity.

Here in Canada, the Orange Lodge continued to hold July 12 marches until the 1980s, until finally, thankfully, they faded into long overdue oblivion.

In a similar vein, in Canada we could have held celebrations marking the Battle of Batoche, where Louis Riel held his last stand (and some say, where the final battle between Protestant and Catholics in Canada took place). Or, by the same token, we could hold festivals celebrating the 30 Years War, or the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre.

But we don’t. Here in Canada, we seem to be putting sectarian violence behind us. For that, let us congratulate ourselves.

How some people cling to their traditions, and hold them in such reverence, even when they are vessels for hatred.