What This Rosh Hashanah Means to Us

There's a word that shows up in the Torah portions we read on Rosh Hashanah: hineni. "Here I am." It's what Avraham says when he's called, before he knows what the call will ask of him.

We think about that word a lot these days.

On October 7th, we didn't have a plan. We had a kitchen, some pots, and a community that needed to be fed: soldiers heading to the front, families who'd lost their homes overnight. We didn't sit down and decide to build an organization. We just started cooking.150 meals the first day. Then 500 a day. We said yes before we understood what saying yes would mean.

Three years later, we're still figuring out the rest.

It's easy to talk about the early days, the urgency, the way a whole country pulled together at once. It's harder to talk about what it looks like once the initial crisis fades from headlines but not from people's lives. Soldiers are still away from their families. There are still homes that haven't been rebuilt, still reservists whose absence leaves a hole at the family table.

Rosh Hashanah asks us to take stock, not just of what we've done, but of what we're still willing to answer for. As we step into 5787, that's the question sitting with us. Not what did we accomplish, but what are we still saying yes to?

We're saying yes to the weekly meal boxes. Yes to the solidarity meals. Yes to the idea that all of us are responsible for one another, even after the news cycle moves on.

This year, we're asking something different of our community, too. Not hands in the kitchen this time, but the resources that let us keep going. Our goal is $5,787 for 5787.

If you're able to help, we'd be grateful.

To donate, visit https://www.gofundme.com/f/citizens-kitchen

. Donations can be made in memory or in recognition of a loved one. For larger donations requiring an American or Israeli tax receipt, reach out directly at citrus.salt@gmail.com.

Shanah tovah.