Though sometimes we may miss the mark, it's about trying to get that bullseye

We sit in synagogue, my family and I.  Its 10:30 pm on a Saturday night and we have just finished learning how to blow a shofar after a tasting of flavored honey.  The Rabbi, a woman learned and powerful, stands by the Cantor who's soprano voice echoes through the dimly lit temple. Tonight we come together to remember our sins, to remember the people we have hurt, and the people that have hurt us, and try to do one thing; forgive. Yet, all religion aside, (though we are here because of our religion) my family and I are here, in this house of spirituality, to remember my uncle; a man we lost last January to cancer.

We sit there, on the verge of tears and I begin to think about the meaning behind, well, everything and I look at my family and I begin to forgive. I begin to forget. I begin to cry.

The Rabbi starts to explain the meaning of this night and says, (and I quote loosely) we sin, but we do not sin in the meaning of how we say it today. In the Jewish religion we are constantly on a mission to hit the bullseye of life, and though we often miss the mark, its important that at least we have tried.

Have I missed the mark? Will I ever get a bullseye? I contemplate this as the Cantor begins to chant another prayer. I think about my failures and my accomplishements, the people I have hurt and the people that I have loved. I am silent for a moment as is the intimate congregation.  After a personal meditation the Rabbi breaks the silence and invites us all to the podium to dress the Torah.

I watch as each member participates, smiling, and singing in Hebrew.  It overwhelms me and I can't shake the feeling that not only is my Uncle Jay there with us, but his brother, my other Uncle who we lost almost three years ago to murder, is there as well. I look around to my cousins, aunts, my grandmother, my brother, my mother, and our congregation and I smile. We end the service wishing each other a happy new year.

I know that this year is the year my family rises from our sadness and brings about a new year, a new beginning, a new age.

In memory of Uncle Jay and Uncle Joel...two men lost in the midst of a world gone madd, but found in the hearts of those they left behind.