This afternoon I shall be taking part in the reading of the Passion at my Catholic parish church in south Wales. Along with Christians across every part of the world, we will remember the last hours of the life of Jesus and reflect on the meaning of his suffering. It is a day of stark simplicity at the centre of the greatest mystery of our faith, writes Paul Murphy
But for me, Good Friday is also linked forever with events in Belfast six years ago. I can remember the scene vividly - most of us in tears through a mixture of euphoria and sheer exhaustion. Even if I had not studied Irish history for many years, and even if I had no Irish ancestors, I think I would still have sensed the enormous burden of history being lifted from the people of Northern Ireland on that Friday afternoon.
Because the agreement represented the triumph of hope over a bitter and violent past. For any Christian, the symbolism of reaching a settlement on Good Friday could not have been more obvious: after 30 years of the most terrible communal agony in Northern Ireland we were all offered a glimpse of another world, a peaceful and just future, an assurance that beyond suffering, death and revenge, lay resurrection.
The agreement was rightly hailed as belonging to the people. But it was also a day of profound importance for those of us involved in politics. For all the cynicism about politicians, most of us choose this career because we want to change things, to make the world a better place. And for all the compromises we have to make along the way, that remains our driving motivation.
A few weeks ago I surprised a congregation in St Patrick's cathedral by telling them that the socialism of my own Welsh Labour Party "owed more to Methodism than to Marx". For me, the principles of social justice, equality and the service of the common good are, above all, Christian values. And so to play some role in beginning to resolve one of the longest-running conflicts in European history and an endless source of suffering in these islands was a privilege for any politician.
The six years since Good Friday 1998 have not been easy for those involved in the political process, even if to the outsider - and to many going about their business in Northern Ireland - the place has clearly changed beyond recognition. George Mitchell warned us that reaching the agreement was in a sense the easy part. The real work of establishing trust between communities and changing psychologies shaped by centuries of pain and decades of bitter violence had only just begun.
Because the suffering did not end on Good Friday. Thousands of people in Northern Ireland carry with them every day the pain of bereavement or the scars of mental or physical injury. For them the past is ever present. As I travel around the North I am constantly struck by tales of quiet suffering and ordinary heroism which do not make the headlines.
I am conscious that for each victim there is a different way of dealing with the past. Some have come to terms with their loss and moved on to a new life, others have not. There is no right way and none of us who have not been victims can say how we would react. We cannot dictate human responses or force the pace of healing.
But equally we have a duty as politicians to facilitate the process of healing as best we can and to find better ways of dealing with the past. Because unless we do so Northern Ireland will remain trapped by its history. The past will simply continue to be a battleground for present political conflicts. After Easter I hope to say more about how we will consult the people of Northern Ireland on better ways of approaching the truth about the past. Whatever way we choose must come from them and enjoy a consensus of support across the community. But I am clear that two things need to happen for any process of reconciliation to be successful.
First, the conflict must truly be over. There must be no new victims. No more young men abused by paramilitaries from both sides in so-called "punishment" attacks or exiled from their homes, their human rights denied by organisations which sink deeper into Mafia-style criminality as the years go by. Loyalist and republican paramilitaries must somehow live up to the courage which their political representatives displayed on Good Friday six years ago and give up their activities for good.
Second, we need to share a vision of a truly inclusive future for Northern Ireland. Both communities need to recognise that the other is here to stay, that there is only a future together, not alone. If reconciliation is to be achieved, both need to do more than tolerate the other; they need to respect and offer reassurance to the other, proving beyond doubt that they value diversity. There must be an end to the cancer of sectarianism. This vision of the future is critical. Establishing the truth about the past - insofar as that is possible - is valuable to the extent that it serves the future and saves another generation from being condemned to repeat our mistakes.
I don't pretend to know exactly how the process of dealing with the past will emerge from a consultation which will no doubt be lengthy and difficult. But I do know that it will hold the key to Northern Ireland's future. It will determine whether the vision of the Good Friday Agreement can be realised.
For myself, I remain as optimistic now as I was on that day in 1998. I did not expect an overnight transformation. This is a long process and all of us involved are flawed human beings. Christians ought to understand better than anyone what it means to be on the road to an ultimate goal, living with imperfection but striving for the ideal.
But we need to keep our eyes fixed on the vision of a new Northern Ireland, however dimly it shines at times. A better future for younger generations must be our driving force. I have no doubt that this is achievable, however long it may take. Northern Ireland's Easter will surely follow that Good Friday.
Paul Murphy MP is Secretary of State for Northern Ireland