One of the great leaders of the Anglican Church is Archbishop of York, Dr. John Sentamu. He’s a great communicator, as many of those who heard him preach in St. Macartin’s Cathedral in Enniskillen will agree.

That was during the G8 conference a couple of years ago. I previously remember the Archbishop coming here to the Clogher Diocese and heard him speak at Aghavea on the subject of Christian redemption.

Jesus, he said, had locked up all our sins in a heavy metal box, chained it up and locked it. Then threw it in a deep river, and placed a sign “No fishing allowed.” For all of us who’ve messed up, done stupid things and downright wrong things in our lives, it’s a comforting analogy.

As Barbra Streisand sang in The Way We Were: Memories may be beautiful and yet, what’s too painful to remember, we simply choose to forget.

But, there are far, far too many in society who cannot “simply choose to forget” and our troubled past is still with us. Drawing a line under some things is simply not an option.

In recent weeks alone, certain events from the past have come up again. The Kingsmill massacre in County Armagh may have happened nearly 40 years ago, but the brutality of 10 Protestant workmen being taken from their mini-bus, asked what religion they were, and gunned down by Republicans was in the news again this week because of a legal wrangle over a fresh inquest.

Bodies of the disappeared have been found in County Meath, reminding us again of the savagery of the early 1970s when people in the north were abducted, murdered and buried, leaving their families with the awful memories of a life lived without knowing what exactly had happened to them.

In another case this week, the family of Belfast solicitor Pat Finucane, murdered in a conspiracy between loyalists and agents of the State continued their battle to have a full inquiry into his death.

And in a fourth piece I read, the pogroms in Belfast which saw thousands of Catholics flee their homes after coming under attack were remembered. The Battle of St. Matthew’s in The Short Strand of 1970 was recalled, as was the 1976 murder of Maire Drumm.

I’m mindful that over decades of conflict, there were many, many families for whom suffering is not just a memory but a vivid reality. And I mention these four simply because they’ve been in the news again in recent days.

But be honest with yourself, do you feel affronted by all four cases. Or do you fix your attention on one more than another.

Our memory of past atrocity tends to be coloured by our identity, does it not? We’re selective depending on which tribe we’re in.

Identity is a strange thing; and our expression of it can lead society into even more division. Which is a great pity, because any place would benefit from a rich mixture of different identities and cultures if we would just accept each other’s.

You would think our different identity mix was straightforward. But like most things in this country, it isn’t.

For example, in the 18th century Presbyterians in an Ireland ruled by England were discriminated against in law, which prompted many of them to be attracted to the United Irishmen. But within a generation, Irish Nationalism became more associated with Catholicism.

It would seem today, even in a new multi-cultural society, that the old fault lines still apply as regards who is British and who is Irish.

And woe betide anyone who steps outside the stereotype. This was exemplified recently, when Sir James Galway from a Protestant flute band in Belfast castigated the British role in Ireland.

Among his critics was Nelson McCausland, the DUP politician. But the plot thickened when the journalist Susan McKay took part in a BBC radio discussion. McCausland went into print to criticise McKay’s participation, pointing out that she was born into a Protestant home in “Londonderry” and claiming, “the BBC should really be more circumspect and careful in its choice of commentators, analysts and historians”.

I happen to know Susan McKay as someone of integrity and also a brilliant journalist; but that is not the point. It is the idea that, as a traitor to her own, she shouldn’t have been given air time.

Susan McKay gave a spirited response to the Lundy charge; but is it not symptomatic of our society that the identity you were born into means you have to follow a certain line of opinion for the rest of your days?

This notion, and the stuck in the past attitude of people like Nelson McCausland, are still with us. What all sides seem to lose sight of is that identity is a changing concept; it’s a construct of the past, and we should individually and collectively never forget where we came from. But it also changes and evolves.

As much as it is painful for us to remember the hurts of the past, we should remember and change if we truly believe that we love our neighbour as ourselves.

I read something written recently by Bishop Richard Harries: “Identities can be used to divide us from other people. OR to affirm our sense of belonging with them.” And we all belong here.