A liturgy for people affected by suicide
One person told me, “It’s the first time I’ve been in a church for 30 years, since that day.”
The vision statement of St. Martin-in-the-Fields is: “At the heart. On the edge.” This says something most obviously about geography and culture, but more subtly about faith and life. St. Martin’s is at the heart of London. And for all our identification with the outcast, it’s at the heart of the establishment: it sits half a mile from 10 Downing Street, three-quarters of a mile from Parliament, and a mile from Buckingham Palace. Members of the cabinet and the royal family visit almost every year, and countless famous people come at some stage to celebrate, to honor, or to mourn.
In addition to indicating something central in relation to geography and culture, the word heart refers to feeling, humanity, passion, and emotion. It means the arts, the creativity and joy that move us beyond ourselves—and beyond rational thought—to a plane of hope, longing, desire, and glory.
More importantly, “At the heart” refers implicitly to life, the universe, and everything. For Christians, the heart of it all is God’s decision never to be except to be with us in Christ. That decision gives rise to creation, as a place for God to be with us, incarnation, the moment Christ becomes flesh among us, and heaven, the time and space in which God is with us forever. As a church, St. Martin’s exists to celebrate, enjoy, and embody God being with us—the heart of it all. We’re not about a narcissistic notion that we are the heart. We rest on the conviction that God is the heart and we want to be with God.
