A grandson turns inherited grief into nourishment
On a quiet morning in Albuquerque, the first deliveries arrive before the pantry doors open. Volunteers carry boxes of beans, rice, canned tomatoes, fresh produce, and challah into a room that will soon fill with conversation. The work is practical, but for Eli Rosen, it has become deeply personal.
Rosen’s grandfather survived the Holocaust. He rarely spoke at length about the years he spent in hiding and displacement, yet food remained one of the clearest languages of his memory. A warm meal meant safety. A stocked kitchen meant that tomorrow could be imagined. Decades later, his grandson has found purpose in helping Jewish families across New Mexico put food on their tables.
The story of a Holocaust survivor’s grandson finding purpose in New Mexico’s Jewish food pantry is also a story about continuity. It connects European Jewish memory with contemporary community care, turning remembrance into action rather than leaving it only in the past.
A family history carried through food
Rosen grew up with fragments of his grandfather’s experience: a name changed for protection, a journey across borders, relatives who did not survive, and long periods when hunger was a daily threat. The family did not treat every meal as solemn. There was laughter, debate, and the ordinary noise of a crowded table. Still, food carried an emotional weight.
His grandfather was especially attentive to waste. Bread was wrapped carefully. Leftovers were transformed into another meal. Guests were always encouraged to take something home. These habits could look like thrift, but Rosen understood them differently as he grew older. They reflected a life in which food had never been guaranteed.
“Feed people before you ask them to explain themselves,” his grandfather often advised, according to Rosen. That principle now shapes the way Rosen approaches pantry service. A person who needs groceries should not have to prove moral worth, defend a difficult month, or share more personal information than necessary.
From inherited memory to local service
Rosen did not begin volunteering because he had a clear plan to work in Jewish social services. He first came to the pantry for a single shift, expecting to sort donations and leave. Instead, he found an operation that depended on many small acts: checking expiration dates, assembling kosher food boxes, greeting clients, coordinating deliveries, and noticing which staples disappeared fastest.
The pantry serves more than one kind of household. Older adults living on fixed incomes may need help with fresh food and low-sodium options. Families with children often look for breakfast items, snacks, and ingredients that can stretch across several meals. Students, newcomers, people recovering from illness, and households facing sudden job loss may all arrive with different needs.
Rosen’s role expanded because he listened. He learned that food insecurity is not always visible and that Jewish community members may hesitate to ask for assistance. Some grew up believing that providing help was honorable while receiving it was shameful. The pantry’s goal is to replace that discomfort with dignity, choice, and welcome.
The pantry as a Jewish value in practice
Jewish teachings about feeding the hungry are familiar to many community members, but a pantry gives those teachings a physical address. Tzedakah becomes a shelf of flour, a grocery card, or a volunteer’s careful attention to dietary requirements. Chesed appears in the work of packing a box for someone who may never know which hands prepared it.
The pantry also reflects the diversity of Jewish life in New Mexico. Families bring traditions from Ashkenazi, Sephardi, Mizrahi, Israeli, Latin American, and mixed cultural backgrounds. For some, holiday food means matzah ball soup or gefilte fish. For others, it may mean harira, bourekas, rice dishes, or a family recipe adapted to local ingredients.
Rosen has helped broaden conversations about what a Jewish food pantry should provide. Culturally familiar foods can ease the isolation that often accompanies financial hardship. A box that includes ingredients for a holiday meal says more than “you have enough to eat.” It says, “Your traditions belong here.”
| Pantry need | Why it matters | Community response |
|---|---|---|
| Kosher staples | Supports households observing Jewish dietary practice | Congregational and individual donations |
| Fresh produce | Adds nutrition and variety to shelf-stable groceries | Local markets, farms, and recurring gifts |
| Holiday ingredients | Allows families to maintain rituals and hospitality | Seasonal drives and targeted purchasing |
| Delivery support | Reaches elders and people without reliable transportation | Volunteer drivers and neighborhood coordinators |
| Flexible assistance | Addresses urgent needs that food boxes cannot cover | Grocery cards and emergency funds |
Remembering the survivor without repeating the trauma
Rosen is careful when he speaks about his grandfather. He does not want the survivor’s life reduced to suffering or used as a dramatic backdrop for a volunteer story. His grandfather was a musician, a demanding card player, and a man who enjoyed strong coffee. He was also someone who endured persecution and loss. Both truths matter.
That balance influences Rosen’s understanding of Holocaust remembrance. Memory should preserve names, testimony, and historical facts, but it should also ask what kind of society those memories require people to build. If remembrance ends with ceremony and never reaches the vulnerable, it remains incomplete.
At the pantry, remembrance becomes ordinary and immediate. It is present when a volunteer makes sure an older client receives food that is easy to prepare. It is present when a family receives enough groceries to celebrate Shabbat. It is present when people who may feel overlooked encounter a community prepared to see them.
Building a wider circle of care
The pantry cannot operate through volunteer enthusiasm alone. It depends on relationships among synagogues, Jewish organizations, schools, social service agencies, local businesses, and individual donors. Each partner contributes something different: storage space, purchasing power, transportation, professional expertise, or a network of people who can respond quickly.
Rosen has also learned that food distribution is connected to larger issues. Rent increases, medical bills, transportation barriers, disability, and isolation can all push a household toward hunger. A pantry may be the first place where someone feels safe enough to mention another concern. Volunteers therefore need boundaries and referral information as much as they need packing instructions.
This wider perspective has changed Rosen’s definition of success. It is not simply the number of boxes distributed. Success may be a client returning because the service felt respectful, a volunteer learning how to discuss food insecurity without stigma, or a congregation shifting from an occasional food drive to a dependable monthly commitment.
Turning good intentions into dependable help
People who want to support a Jewish food pantry can begin with practical choices. Financial contributions allow staff and volunteers to purchase exactly what is needed, while carefully planned donations help reduce waste and fill cultural or dietary gaps.
The most useful support is consistent. A single holiday drive can make a visible difference, but recurring gifts, scheduled volunteer shifts, and ongoing partnerships create the stability that families facing food insecurity need throughout the year.
Ways to strengthen the pantry network
- Give recurring financial support so the pantry can plan purchases and respond to emergencies.
- Ask which kosher, culturally familiar, and nutrition-conscious items are currently needed before organizing a food drive.
- Volunteer for sorting, packing, delivery, client welcome, or administrative work according to your skills.
- Invite congregations, schools, and community groups to adopt a monthly pantry commitment.
- Share pantry information discreetly with neighbors who may need assistance, emphasizing confidentiality and dignity.
A legacy measured in open doors
Rosen still thinks about his grandfather when he handles bread. The gesture is small: lifting a loaf from a donation crate, checking that it is fresh, and placing it where a family can choose it. Yet the act carries generations of meaning.
His grandfather survived a world that sought to erase Jewish lives. Rosen cannot change what happened to him, and he cannot restore the relatives who were lost. He can, however, help create a Jewish community in which hunger is met with solidarity and no one is required to face hardship alone.
That work offers a living answer to the question of what survivors leave behind. Their legacy is found in testimony and memorials, in family stories and names preserved. It is also found in the daily decision to protect human dignity.
Support for New Mexico’s Jewish food pantries can take many forms: a recurring donation, a volunteer shift, a delivery route, or a box of requested staples. Contact a local Jewish organization or pantry to learn what is needed now, and help turn memory, compassion, and community responsibility into nourishment for a neighbor.