I am writing this on Good Friday, arguably the holiest day in the year here in Norway. For while most people here doubt that Jesus returned from the dead, at least in any literal or physical sense, they certainly believe he died. Not all are equally excited about this, of course, but out of respect for our 1000 years of Christianity and the values those years imparted, the country grinds to a halt already on Thursday and is utterly closed down on Friday. Only life-saving work is still done, like in hospitals and on animal farms. Not without reason is this day called Langfredag (Long Friday) here in Norway. It certainly gives time to think, although most of us go out of our way to avoid that. With computers everywhere these days, that’s pretty easy. But even before the Information Age, most city people traveled to the mountains to spend the holy days skiing. That way they did not need to go to church, as there were no churches there, and hear the creepy story about suffering and redemption.

(Long essay deleted here for theological reasons.  And also because 10 PM became 3 AM.)