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Good morning. The heart is central in our figurative conceptions of our emotional and moral lives. We are whole heartedly in favour of this or that, or half-hearted, when our heart is not in it; we may big-hearted, or kind-hearted, or hard-hearted; or even soft hearted. And perhaps most poetically of all, we can be broken-hearted. It turns out, however, that you can actually be broken hearted and die from the condition. Researchers at Imperial College in London have identified two molecules implicated in the development of Takot-subo cardiomyopathy – sometimes referred to rather more easily as broken heart syndrome. These molecules, produced in response to extreme physical or emotional stress, such as occurs with a bereavement, cause a sudden weakening and bulging of the heart, and symptoms which can be confused with a heart attack. Some 2500 people in the UK are affected every year, the majority being women, and often indeed after losing a loved one. The Psalms are steeped in language of the heart – but in one particular verse of Psalm 22, the writer describes an acute affliction of the heart which sounds every bit as frightening as broken heart syndrome. The psalmist is pictured as if beset by wild bulls or roaring lions and declares: ‘I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast.’ The psalm begins as a lament at the speaker’s grievous sense of abandonment – the opening words, indeed, are the words Jesus used on the cross – ‘my God, my God, why have you forsaken me’. Mid way through, however, the psalm changes tune somewhat mysteriously, and the psalmist finds hope in God. But at the outset, the misery – and the terrible affliction of the heart – are like those of the bereaved. With scientific advances there comes hope – and the researchers at Imperial College certainly hope that their study, as well as providing insight into a poorly understood syndrome, will open avenues to treatment. One day then, doctors may be able to prevent broken hearts – at least in a certain sense. But alongside medicine for the body there will always need to be medicine for the soul – for those who may in the future survive the acute stress of bereavement, will do so with their sense of grief and loss and abandonment undiminished. Christianity, in my view, has no magic pill for that condition, no glib answer to take away the pain – but it does hold to the logic of the psalm and the mysterious story it tells, of how, somehow, on the other side of the acute distress of loss, abandonment, and bereavement, people find in their faith comfort, hope and the beginnings of new life.