Canadians tend to be a bit more religious than most Europeans -

Host: The winter air was crisp, the sky a dome of pale blue over a snow-covered park in Montreal. The late afternoon light painted the world in tones of silver and rose, and from the frozen pond, faint laughter of children echoed — the sharp, clean sound of joy carrying across the cold. Nearby, a café glowed warm behind fogged glass.

Inside, the room smelled of coffee, maple sugar, and wool coats drying by the radiator. The atmosphere was soft — a kind of human warmth that defied the season. Jack sat near the window, watching the snow fall on the cobblestones outside, his fingers loosely wrapped around a mug. Jeeny, across from him, was sketching something on a napkin — a rough outline of the world map, divided not by borders, but by hearts.

Jeeny: (reading from her phone, voice calm and thoughtful) “Timothy Garton Ash once said, ‘Canadians tend to be a bit more religious than most Europeans — though not more than the Poles or Ukrainians. Most important, their attitude to immigration and ethnic minorities is more positive than that of most Europeans.’”

Jack: (looking up) “So — Canada, the polite middle ground of civilization.”

Jeeny: “You say that like it’s an insult.”

Jack: “Not an insult. Just… predictable. The country built on apologies and multiculturalism.”

Jeeny: “Maybe that predictability is its strength. Stability is a kind of grace these days.”

Jack: “Or complacency dressed in kindness.”

Host: The window glass rattled faintly as the wind brushed past. A couple outside walked by, hand in hand, their faces hidden beneath scarves, but their laughter lingered — a small rebellion against the cold.

Jeeny: “You always think goodness must have an agenda. Why can’t kindness just exist — without strategy?”

Jack: “Because every virtue has context. Canada’s tolerance works because it’s distant from the chaos. Europe carries its scars closer to the skin.”

Jeeny: “That’s fair. But Ash wasn’t comparing pain; he was comparing perspective. Canadians look outward and see diversity as enrichment. Many Europeans still see it as dilution.”

Jack: “A difference born of history. Europe learned fear through invasion and loss. Canada learned identity through inclusion.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. It’s the difference between nations built to defend and nations built to welcome.”

Host: The fireplace crackled, sending faint sparks up through the grate. The café filled with a low murmur of voices, English and French mingling, a symphony of quiet coexistence.

Jack: “But do you think it’s real? The positivity, I mean. Or just politeness? Surface harmony covering the same old fractures.”

Jeeny: “Every society has fractures. The test isn’t whether they exist — it’s how they’re treated. In some places, difference is ammunition. Here, it’s conversation.”

Jack: (smiling faintly) “You always make humanity sound like a dinner party.”

Jeeny: “Because it should be. Everyone brings their own dish — some sweet, some bitter — but the table is what matters.”

Host: Outside, the snow deepened, softening the noise of the city. The world beyond the window looked slower, quieter, more deliberate.

Jack: “Ash mentioned religion too — that Canadians are more religious than most Europeans. Funny, given how secular their institutions are.”

Jeeny: “That’s because their faith doesn’t need to be shouted. It’s lived, not declared.”

Jack: “So belief as quiet conviction, not spectacle.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. It’s like this weather — cold, but not cruel. Faith that doesn’t demand obedience, only humility.”

Jack: “You think that’s why they’re more open? Because tolerance and faith can coexist?”

Jeeny: “Because true faith always breeds compassion. The problem isn’t belief — it’s the fear that comes when belief forgets empathy.”

Host: The light shifted, the sky turning a deep violet now. Snowflakes clung to the window, melting slowly, leaving trails of water like faint veins of the world’s heartbeat.

Jack: “You know, growing up in Europe, I was taught to see borders as fences — lines you cross at your own peril. Here, borders feel like handshakes.”

Jeeny: “That’s the Canadian paradox — identity without aggression. It’s not about purity; it’s about participation.”

Jack: “A cultural democracy.”

Jeeny: “Yes. Everyone gets a verse in the song.”

Host: The barista passed by, refilling their mugs. The smell of freshly ground beans filled the air, mixing with cinnamon and wood smoke. Jack watched the reflection of the fire in his cup.

Jack: “But can that last? The world’s growing more divided, more suspicious. Even Canada’s not immune.”

Jeeny: “No place is. But some choose to lead by example rather than fear. Maybe the future belongs to nations that learn to listen.”

Jack: “Listening — the lost art of politics.”

Jeeny: “And the foundation of empathy.”

Host: A soft melody began to play over the café speakers — an old folk song sung in both French and English. The two languages braided together, neither overpowering the other.

Jeeny: “See? That’s what Ash was talking about. This — coexistence as music, not silence.”

Jack: “But music requires tension — dissonance resolving into harmony. Maybe that’s what we’re all afraid of — that the song never resolves.”

Jeeny: “Maybe the point isn’t resolution. Maybe it’s learning to keep singing even when it doesn’t.”

Host: Her words settled between them like the snow — soft, weightless, and true. Outside, the streetlamps flickered on, halos of light forming in the mist.

Jack: “You know, maybe Canada isn’t the middle ground. Maybe it’s the experiment — proof that identity doesn’t have to be sharp to be strong.”

Jeeny: “Yes. The courage to be gentle.”

Jack: “That’s rarer than revolution.”

Jeeny: “And harder to sustain.”

Host: The café windows glowed against the deepening night, their warmth spilling onto the snow-covered street. The world outside looked cold, but inside — there was laughter, quiet music, and the faint hum of unity.

Jack: (smiling) “So maybe tolerance isn’t naive after all. Maybe it’s the most sophisticated thing we’ve ever invented.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Because it takes strength to welcome what’s unfamiliar — and grace to let it change you.”

Host: The snowflakes began to fall thicker now, erasing footprints and softening all edges. The city looked newly born — untouched and forgiving.

And in that moment, Timothy Garton Ash’s words found their truest echo:

That kindness can be policy,
that faith can coexist with openness,
and that the highest evolution of civilization
is not conquest or dominance,
but the quiet, deliberate art of acceptance.

Host: The fire in the café burned low, casting golden halos on the faces around it — strangers of every accent, every shade, gathered in warmth.
And as Jack and Jeeny lifted their cups in silent toast,
the snow outside whispered its timeless benediction:
that the world, for all its difference,
still dreams of belonging.