Good Friday is a time when the Christian world has traditionally focused on suffering. Christ's Agony and Crucifixion are recalled in pulpits everywhere. The challenge of evil is as real now as it has been for centuries: violence, persecution and brutality are no less prevalent or perplexing to the faithful than they have been in any community at any time. And the spiritual challenge to the Church, as it contemplates suffering, is as acute as ever: to proclaim the triumph of the spirit over everything that would destroy it.

There is an added dimension today. The downturn has increased hardship for millions. In the richer world, the loss of jobs, bankruptcies and homelessness may seem less catastrophic than the plight of those in poorer countries who must forgo food and the chance to rise above the miseries of subsistence existence. But they are scarcely less demoralising. The Church may see opportunity in this suffering, in that millions turn to faith to sustain them. But the downturn presents a more insidious challenge. The Church's role is not that of an analgesic, to dull pain for those hurt by material circumstances. It is to assert moral leadership, to challenge people of faith to make right choices. And that leadership has been conspicuously lacking over the past year.

There is a paradox that the Church has yet to resolve. Rarely has faith played so crucial a role in secular politics. The world is grappling with religious extremism and the evils perpetrated by narrow zealots. Even in Britain, often seen as a profoundly secular society, religious debate has been intense, ranging from the place of Islam in Western society and the implications of embryonic research to the phillippics of prominent atheists and the echoes of the Darwinian debate. Yet the Church has seemed confused about its message and its status. Should it reassert an uncompromising orthodoxy, addressed to its members and believers? Or should it seek to recapture its once inclusive role as the forum in which a nation's spiritual life was lived?

In both the two main Christian communities in Britain, there has been muddle, conflict and disappointment. Within the Anglican Communion, there is schism in all but name. The Lambeth Conference brokered an uneasy truce between the various feuding factions. But it is a delicate peace and not one that can easily weather further ructions over gays, episcopal consecration or literal adherence to scripture. Among Roman Catholics the issues of contraception, celibacy and liberation theology continue to divide, as does the Vatican's vigorous reassertion of conservative stances and the unfortunate consequences of papal gaffes.

The challenge to both churches is to assert enduring spiritual values in a way that is inclusive and attuned to the social norms of largely secular societies. This, rather than the pandering to factional interests (such as the disgraceful mishandling of Bishop Williamson's Holocaust denial) is what will give the churches leadership at a time when the creed of materialism has been found so dreadfully shallow. The Church, like President Obama, must attempt to speak to those who are believers and those who are not.

There is suffering and there is evil, not only in Darfur, Gaza and Zimbabwe but also in blighted parts of Britain. Most communities respond to pain by seeking support from trusted faces. The older rituals find fresh purpose, as people turn this Easter - and Passover, from which many Easter observances are drawn - to the gatherings of families and friends. For many, the Christian message of resurrection, of hope over adversity and life over death, is essential. But to be central to that support, the Church must be clear of its own priorities. It too must make the right moral choices, the right decisions in adversity.