Once again, Cape Canaveral mourns the loss of its space explorers

At the Space Coast Assembly of God church little more than a mile from the Kennedy Space Centre, the crowds were such that churchgoers were having to park their cars on the grass verge.

"This is a close-knit community and something like this hits us all very hard," said the pastor Mark Little, explaining the size of the congregation which had turned out for a special memorial service yesterday morning.

"This town is Nasa's ringside seat. Many of our congregation work at the base. There are a lot of emotions here today."

There were similar services across the entire length and breadth of America yesterday as people of all denominations and of all faiths stopped to mourn the deaths of the seven Columbia astronauts. In many instances the services around the country were multifaith – rabbis being invited to participate in Christian services – reflecting the multi-ethnic mix of the Columbia crew. Prayers were also offered in Israel and India as makeshift memorials appeared at the birthplaces of Ilan Ramon, the first Israeli astronaut, and Indian-born Kalpana Chawla, who was also on board Columbia.

All the gatherings had one thing in common: they were taking place because of the need felt by millions of people from America to Israel to smalltown India to do something – anything – to respond to Saturday's disaster.

"We need to do something to uplift people," said Ken Babbington, pastor of the First Baptist Church in Cocoa Beach, another community on the so-called Space Coast where there were numerous memorial services. "I watched the Challenger explode and I remember how the community needed to mourn."

In the context of the terror attacks of 11 September when almost 3,000 people lost their lives there have been those tempted to question the significance of Saturday morning's explosion above the skies of eastern Texas, which killed just seven people.

Why, some have asked, should Americans feel so moved by such a relatively modest disaster?

Why should President George Bush have felt the need to address the nation in such grandiose and biblical terms.

But such a perspective ignores the grip which the space programme holds on the public imagination. Ever since President John Kennedy vowed America would put a man on the moon – and even more so after that ambition was realised in such iconic fashion within a decade – this nation has been entranced by the idea of the exploration of the "final frontier".

Generations have grown up with the catchphrases of astronauts both real and fictional. The words of Star Trek's Captain Kirk have become as ingrained as those of Neil Armstrong, who made the giant leap for mankind.

And while the seven who died had the sort of equipment that might have seemed like science fiction, astronauts Rick Husband, Michael Anderson, David Brown, Laurel Clark and William McCool, with Mr Ramon and Ms Chawla, were considered explorers in the same mould as those 19th-century frontier-breakers Lewis and Clark. Their deaths are a fierce blow to America's national pride in a way that the death of seven people in a light aircraft accident could never be.

"It's because it is space," said Tammie Little, the pastor's wife, who said she had burst into tears when she heard that Columbia had exploded just 16 minutes away at shuttle speed from where she sat. "It's because it's our space programme. After Challenger [the shuttle which exploded in 1986] you think that the take-off is more dangerous but now we know that is not so."

The tragedy was just as keenly felt in the other two countries where families lost loved-ones on board Columbia. Students at a high school near the port of Haifa in northern Israel who had designed a science experiment for the space craft brought flowers and candles to mourn the death of Mr Ramon, an air force colonel who was already considered a hero for his military exploits. The journey of the son of a Holocaust survivor into space had been seen as a symbol of hope in a country wracked daily by violence with the Palestinians and fearing the repercussions of a war in Iraq. Gabi Moor, 39, a barber in northern Israel, summed up the feelings of many: "We got another slap in the face, as a nation, in addition to the slap we get every day. It's like there is a jinx on us."

Mr Ramon's widow, Rona, who had been waiting at the Kennedy Space Centre for the return of the shuttle along, was set to wait in America for any news of her husband's remains before making the journey back to Israel. The couple's five-year-old daughter, Noa, had asked her mother when told what had happened: "How can you die in space? People are supposed to die only on earth."

In the Indian industrial town of Karnal, where Ms Chawla was born, dozens of mourners gathered at her childhood home and her high school. In the Hindu tradition, incense was set to burn in front of her photograph at shrines covered in garlands of marigolds. Vijay Setia, a cousin of the astronaut, said: "No one could image that a disaster like this could happen."

On the Space Coast, where the local economy receives an annual boost of at least $1.36bn (£830m) from the activities at Cape Canaveral, there are also practical concerns about the loss of the Columbia. When Challenger exploded the shuttle programme was halted for two years, costing many people their jobs and ruining livelihoods. Pastor Little said he had prepared special prayers for those whose jobs may be at risk.

While not wishing to sound insensitive, local businesses have already voiced concerns about what may happen to the wider local economy as a result of Saturday's disaster. Lee Bohlmann, president of the Melboune-Palm Bay chamber of commerce, said: "It's going to be scary. We're going into investigative mode which usually shuts down everything else."

Ed Gormel, executive director of the Florida Space Authority, said there was almost certainly going to be an impact on the state, to which the space industry is worth an annual $4.5bn. "There is a lot of detailed work to break the thing down. I can't even contemplate what's going to happen," he said.

Columbia's flight was the 113th in the shuttle programme's 22 years and for local people the flights had become somewhat routine. Saturday's events have woken them from that torpor in the most unwelcome fashion. Gill Heaman, shopping yesterday at the local Wal-Wart, had already started worrying about the future. "My boyfriend works at the base on the crawler vehicles that move the shuttle and the rockets. They were sent home on Saturday. We're thinking now about what will happen to his job."