It's Good Friday.

The air was superbly clear for our morning walk. The mountains looked close enough to touch. The moon was a vanilla ice-cream. The clouds were pink candy-floss. The rising sun was a blood orange, overflowing with juice.

Beautiful. But somehow I prefer Good Friday to be grey and drizzly.

For today is the day we remember death. Remember late parents, and relatives, and animals, and friends, and students, and acquaintances, and those we did not even know, but who have somehow touched our lives. Nelson Mandela. The passengers on the missing plane. The seared souls of that horrific conflagration 100 years ago.

Today is the day we remember how it touches everyone. Even God.

Today is the day we remember sacrifice. I have no idea how this great cosmic redemption works. But faith tells me the sacrifice was made. The deed was done. I was redeemed. Somehow.

Today is the day we remember how sacrifice is built into the universe. So old-fashioned, the idea of sacrifice. So untriumphant. So not how we're taught to live our lives these days. And yet so indispensable, both physically and spiritually. Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies...

And today is the day we remember injustice. Jesus was arrested unjustly, tried unjustly, executed unjustly. The whole thing stank. The rancid soup of politics and religion.

Today is the day we remember that injustice is still rampant...

On Sunday, we'll remember resurrection, vindication, and victory. And that's good. Human beings can't exist without hope. But for a short time each year, it's good to live the darkness. Even in the sunshine.