GOOD Friday is a very odd name for a day in the Christian calendar when the betrayal, abandonment, torture and death of Jesus are remembered by Christians across the world.

The old name, God’s Friday, makes much more sense. It’s the day when humanity saw that God takes full responsibility for righting all wrongs. Justice is served, but not vindictively. Served so that forgiveness and a changed heart can follow.

My day began as I listened to John Humphries grilling Bishop Vincent Nicholls. The bishop patiently explained that the day is one on which all can stand together to remember those people abandoned and betrayed; a day to stand in silence as we recall and witness the suffering that humans inflict on one another, and as we move through to Easter Day a time to share together in the wonders of life and to hold on to hope for the future.

Turning to Easter Day, I can give no answer to John Humphries about what actually happened, but I would ask him to tell me, if he could, why the closest friends and followers of Jesus did not suffer from PTSD as we now understand it. Their subsequent behaviour was both brave and hopeful, they had excitement, hope and purpose, so much so that two millennia on, in Andover, on Good Friday morning we saw again the story re-enacted.

In Andover (as I suppose in Jerusalem) many took no particular notice of the events, others clearly had other concerns, but some were moved to tears by what they saw and heard as the play unfolded. I hope they stayed until the play’s conclusion where we were all challenged to spread and to show the message of love that Jesus taught. It is not an easy task, as my friends the Quakers remind me; love is an active verb, requiring action.

My day ended as I drove home with my newly adopted RSPCA rescue dog — now named Jack (to go with Jill!). A fresh start for us both, which seems especially appropriate at this Eastertide.

Shalom.

Rev Canon Jill Bentall.