This past weekend was Yom Kippur, the holiest and most solemn day in the Jewish religion. My grandfather, Sol Zim, is the cantor (basically someone who recites the prayers through song) at Hollis Hills Jewish Center in Queens. As I stood and watched my grandfather sing, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of joy and admiration. The melodies and harmonies resonated throughout the synagogue and compeled all in attendance to join in. Now, I don’t consider myself to be religious nor affiliated with any religion in particular; however, on that day I experienced an event that I don’t quite understand. What drives some people to visit their local church, temple, mosque, or place of worship on a daily basis? Whatever it is, I certainly don’t possess it. The ability to maintain such faith in something so vague is something I will always have the upmost respect for.