The Installation of Sivan Rotholz

Abby Pogrebin

Anyone here who knows me would never describe me as Zen. More like really impatient. A worrier. Usually in a hurry. Often stressed. One who could use a little more Shabbat observance – the required pause.

Which is why I’ve been so blessed to have Sivan Rotholz in my life. Before she was a rabbi, she was rabbinic. Steady. Steadying. Thoughtful. Careful. Comforting. Insightful. Boosting. Educating. Anchoring.

When I was looking for a research assistant ten years ago, a journalist-friend told me Sivan was rare, and he was right. Sivan carries a kind of special light -- not only because of her warmth, intuition, keen listening and astute problem-solving, but because she loves Judaism for all the reasons that I believe will sustain it: its bottomless depth, its resilience despite all the slings and arrows, its potential to heal and connect people in the most concrete ways. She doesn’t just think deeply, she executes effectively. I have encountered people who can wrestle with dense ideas but cannot, at the end of the day, turn a puzzle into a solution. Sivan can – with intelligence and alacrity. Conversely, I have watched people who are efficient without being compassionate. Sivan is both. She possesses that rare alchemy of sensitivity and productivity, of appreciating complexity without letting it paralyze her. She warms to the hurdles of an issue or question, and enjoys untying the knots of a problem – be it intellectual or practical. She does not settle for “good enough” and though she is one of the kindest, most emotionally attuned people I know, she can also be refreshingly unsentimental and direct when the moment (or the work) requires it.

When it comes to why Sivan wanted to be a rabbi, I was both moved and energized by the reasons she was called to this demanding work. She described watching how Judaism – and, by extension, Judaism’s translators, RABBIS – can change a life. She wants to be with people at their most acute moments and transitions, be they painful or exuberant, and seems much less interested in the idea of rabbi-as-public-figure than rabbi-as-teacher, leader, listener, consoler. I was not surprised to watch Sivan become not just a stellar rabbinical student with a masters in Hebrew Letters, and Non-Profit Management and Leadership, but an alumna of the Wexner Graduate Fellowship, the year-long Hartman Institute Rabbinic Seminar and Atra: The Center for Rabbinic Innovation.

When Sivan came to me a few years ago, while she was still up to her ears in rabbinical studies, not to mention parenting two adorable children, and told me her dream was to work in Central’s Exploring Judaism program and learn from its director, the amazing Rabbi Lisa Rubin, I was over the moon. I personally believe that Central’s introduction to Judaism is the gold standard. But I was also curious: why did Sivan gravitate towards the rabbinic work of introducing Judaism – to those who have not necessarily fallen in love with it yet? She told me that was exactly the point. She wanted to share what she loves about our Jewish expanse – its stories, responsibilities and rituals – with those who might not yet have felt all the magic. But she also could get inside what might make people feel daunted to begin. Sivan has an intuitive grasp of what the barriers are for many people – what might make someone who is not Jewish – or someone born Jewish who doesn’t feel connected, invested or well-versed– what might make them hesitate to take on learning or practice. She gets what gets in the way and listens without judgment. Sivan is the kind of rabbi of whom I think our kids could ask their hardest questions.

This week's haftorah is Isaiah 51:12 the fourth of a series of what are known as the seven "Haftarot of Consolation." I learned recently that the seven Sabbaths after Tisha B'Av which take us up to Rosh HaShanah are known as Sheva D'NECH-amata (the "Seven of Consolation") because on each of these Sabbaths the Haftorah reading contains a prophecy of comfort.

A prophecy of comfort.

God knows, we all need that after this awful week. I know how much Sivan – who was born in Israel and is tied so closely to it – has been struggling after the horrific news last weekend. But that makes it all the more poignant and powerful that we are welcoming her to this bimah on this Shabbat – the Shabbat of Consolation. She is joining the extraordinary team of clergy who console us when we’re reeling and sleepless, when hope these days feels like a much steeper climb.

Sivan gives me comfort. I will venture to say she will care about comforting you. Not just because she’s calm, but because she’s wise. Not just because she’s hard-working but because she wants to work so hard for the Jewish people. I hope you will join me in welcoming her to our family. She is worthy of Central standards, its legacy, and its covenant.

Sivan Rotholz

When I woke up on Sunday to the news of the murder of six hostages, I wondered how I could possibly be installed tonight— just five days later. How could I focus on joy and gratitude when the Jewish people are grieving? How could I be celebrated when Alexander, Almog, Carmel, Eden, Hersh, and Ori were alive one week ago – and now they are not?

I know that I am unfamiliar to many of you. That’s the point of an installation – to welcome and introduce a new member of this clergy team. So as we press forward — both celebrating and mourning here together tonight – I hope you will permit me to tell you a bit about my connection to Israel.

I was born in Haifa and am a fourth-generation Progressive Zionist. My great-grandparents came to Israel in the second aliyah, planting eucalyptus trees to dry the Malaria swamps. My parents were founding members of Shalom Achshav and have been advocating for peace since before I was born. Hebrew was the first language spoken in my home. I visited Israel often as a child, worked and studied there throughout my life, and recently lived in Jerusalem for three years. I am an Israeli-American, even if my Hebrew will always disappoint my family.

Israel is one of my homes. When I left in 2022, I toured the streets of Jerusalem openly weeping. As the poet Yehuda HaLevi famously wrote, “Libi baMizrach – My heart is in the east.”

This has only been more true since October 7th. I have agonized alongside you for these past 335 days, knowing that it was our mishpacha – our family – that suffered so horrifically at the hands of Hamas terrorists. The six hostages murdered this past week were all our brothers and sisters.

Having been ordained – and now being installed – in a post-October 7th world, I have spent a lot of time thinking about what it means to be a rabbi in this moment. There are no easy answers, but I feel both blessed and feel a great sense of responsibility in this role at this hour.

As I contemplate what it means to be on this remarkable bima celebrating on this of all Shabbats, it is the light of our tradition that guides me. It is the knowledge that Judaism always holds struggle and blessing simultaneously — whether we sing Shechechiyanu right after the Mishebeirach, have a barbecue on Yom Ha’-Atzmaut just hours after Yom HaZikaron, or stand under the chuppah the day after a funeral. Tonight is, for me, the inverse of the breaking of the glass at a wedding. A moment of celebration to remind us of what is good in the world amidst a daily reality that too often reminds us of what is not. And so I want to dedicate my installation to the memories of Alexander, Almog, Carmel, Eden, Hersh, and Ori, and to lift up my gratitude as a prayer for the safe return of the remaining 101 hostages. Bring them home now.

As I focus on appreciation, I offer thanks to the many people without whom I would not be here tonight.

First and foremost, I want to thank one of Central’s past presidents, Abby Pogrebin. I was blessed to serve as Abby’s research assistant for ten years. In that time, I learned that she works tirelessly as a champion of rabbis. In my case, I don’t know that I would be a rabbi were it not for Abby’s unending generosity, help, and guidance. Thank you, Abby, for teaching me what it means to care so much about the Jewish story and our wider Jewish family.

I also owe a special debt of gratitude to Rabbi Lisa Rubin, not only for taking a chance on me, but for building the Center for Exploring Judaism, a program that exemplifies the Big Tent of Reform Judaism. And I must thank Rabbi Angela Buchdahl, who has built something extraordinary here at Central Synagogue, who saw potential in me to serve in this world-class shul before I saw it in myself, and who challenges and inspires me to grow into a better rabbi every day.

I also want to thank the exceptional clergy I have the privilege of working alongside. Cantors Mutlu and Pearsall, and Rabbis Berman, Crystal, Davis, Haber, Lorge, Mandel, Rosenthal, and Salth. Each and every one of you has been integral to my feeling at home at Central. How lucky am I to learn from such generous, thoughtful, and talented rabbis and cantors?

To the dedicated staff in the fourth floor clergy study, the unparalleled team in the Adult Engagement department – especially Rachel La-KWER-shuh, Carolyn Wrestler, and Marina NEB-row – and the talented humans across the street at 110: You have supported me in every way imaginable, and I simply could not do this work without you. And a special thanks to our exceptional Executive Director, Marcia Ka-BAHN, who had a vision for my role and has already taught me so much, and to our Director of Adult Engagement, Shira Epstein, who encourages us all to be imaginative, responsive, and effective. I would also like to thank our President, Jon May, and all of the Officers, Trustees, Board members, and committee members whose dedication behind the scenes cannot be overestimated.

I have to acknowledge the many teachers, mentors, guides, and rabbis whose impact on my growth and journey cannot be underestimated, and the friends who have been with me on this unexpected ride, including my loved ones who came out to support me tonight – Marsha Kolker, Lou Sandberg, Rabbi Deborah Sacks Mintz, and Rabbi Jack Sherratt. Finally, I offer my gratitude to my Center for Exploring Judaism students. Being your teacher and guide has truly been one of the great gifts of my life.

There is no forgetting the sorrow of this past week. But our story moves forward. We show up for Shabbat again. We bow to the East, recite the Shema and Kaddish, and the clergy of this synagogue insist we keep to the plan: a new rabbi will be installed. I couldn’t be more humbled or more grateful. Thank you all for summoning this celebration despite all the heartbreak. May I always be guided by our tradition so that I might serve you well.

Shabbat Shalom.