Good Friday

The phrase "Good Friday" has always worried me, long before I could even spell oxymoron. Jesus of Nazareth's life and death is well recorded. The Romans, like most dictators, kept detailed records. The pain and suffering caused by crucifixion is all too easy to imagine. 


I'm a Londoner, and so by default, was raised in the Church of England's faith. Sunday school and daily hymns were a part of growing up, as was the belief that Jesus is the friend of all little children. Growing up a little more, I learned that Jesus wasn't actually born on December 25th, and Easter overlays an older tradition of paganism. 
But for me, Good Friday remains a day of quiet contemplation of all those who make sacrifices, small and large, that enrich our lives. Even after death.