Rabbi Dina Rosenberg is honored to serve as the Senior Rabbi of Congregation Sons of Israel (CSI), a role she began in 2023. She brings a deep passion for Judaism to every corner of community life. Whether it’s getting her hands dirty on the CSI Organic Farm, playing with the nursery school children, leading creative projects in the Religious School, or facilitating thought-provoking discussions through adult education, Rabbi Rosenberg is dedicated to enriching both the spiritual and educational experiences of the congregation.
Rabbi Rosenberg takes great joy in officiating at life-cycle events, working closely with each family to ensure that every ritual reflects their unique story and values. She is committed to creating a welcoming and inclusive environment, personally welcoming everyone who walks through the doors of CSI, and making sure each person feels seen, heard, and valued.
A passionate educator, Rabbi Rosenberg believes in offering dynamic, out-of-the-box experiences that connect the sacred to the everyday. From teaching baking classes, to leading a weekly gratitude circle with meditation, to encouraging children to take an active role in Shabbat services, she seeks to inspire a love of Judaism through creative, hands-on learning. She is particularly dedicated to engaging children in all aspects of synagogue life, fostering a vibrant, multi-generational community for the next generation.
Rabbi Rosenberg’s leadership extends beyond the synagogue. She is proud to serve as the chaplain for the Briarcliff Fire Department and is an active member of BOMA, the local interfaith clergy organization. She is grateful for the opportunity to be deeply involved in the Briarcliff and Ossining communities.
Ordained in 2011 by The Jewish Theological Seminary, Rabbi Rosenberg has served Conservative congregations across the country, including in Mississippi, Brooklyn, Maryland, and New Jersey.
Rabbi Rosenberg resides in Briarcliff Manor with her husband, Mark, a master challah baker, their two children, Boaz and Abigail, and their dogs Peanut Butter and Nessa. Together, they feel blessed to be part of the CSI family and the greater Westchester community.
Shabbat Messages
March 15th, Parashat Ki Tissa [Shemot (Exodus) 30:11-34:35, 1 Melakhim (1 Kings) 18:1-39]
This week’s parashah, Ki Tissa, includes a powerful instruction: before the Kohanim (priests) could serve in the Mishkan, they had to wash their hands and feet—or risk death (Exodus 30:19-21). It’s a striking requirement, but one that carries deep meaning.
A commentator notes that hands and feet are the “doers” of the body. Our hands create, build, and sometimes take what isn’t ours. Our feet move us forward but can also lead us astray. By washing these parts specifically, the priests weren’t just engaging in a physical cleansing but a spiritual reset—preparing themselves to stand before God with intention and purity.
This idea resonates today. Before we enter sacred moments—whether it’s prayer, meaningful work, or an important conversation—we’re invited to pause and reflect: Have our hands been used to lift others up? Have our feet led us toward goodness? While we may not have the same ritual, the message remains: holiness requires preparation. Taking time to realign our actions and intentions can transform even ordinary moments into sacred ones.
March 7th, Parashat Zachor Tetzaveh [Shemot (Exodus) 27:20-30:10 + Devarim 25:17-19, 1 Shemu'el (1 Samuel) 15:2-34]
I have the privilege of serving as a liaison to the Jewish Chaplains Council, advocating for Jewish chaplains in the United States Armed Forces. In our last two meetings, we have wrestled with a contentious and deeply concerning issue: the use of Jewish chaplain insignia by messianic “clergy.”
Currently, a messianic chaplain—who refers to himself as a ‘rabbi’—has chosen to wear the same insignia as ordained Jewish chaplains. Because the tablet insignia is universally recognized as a Jewish symbol, this has led to confusion among soldiers seeking spiritual guidance from a rabbi. Some have unknowingly turned to this individual, believing him to be a legitimate Jewish chaplain. The issue extends beyond personal counseling—when a commanding officer requests a Jewish chaplain to lead a Shabbat service or a Jewish ritual, mistakes have been made, resulting in a messianic chaplain being assigned to a role meant for a Jewish clergy member.
Symbols matter.
This lesson is reinforced in this week's Torah portion, Parashat Tetzaveh. God commands that the sacred vestments of the High Priest include two shoulder pieces adorned with lazuli stones, upon which are engraved the names of the twelve tribes of Israel (Exodus 28). Commentators teach that these names were not merely decorative—they symbolized the High Priest’s sacred duty to carry the people of Israel upon his shoulders. He was not just an individual; he was a representative of all Israel, standing before God on their behalf, praying for them, and atoning for their sins.
The symbols we wear convey responsibility, identity, and purpose. When a Jewish chaplain wears the insignia of the tablets, it signifies a sacred trust—that this individual stands as a recognized and ordained representative of the Jewish people, providing authentic Jewish leadership and pastoral care. When this symbol is misappropriated, it creates confusion, misrepresentation, and the potential for spiritual harm.
Just as the High Priest’s vestments reflected his holy mission, so too must the insignia of Jewish chaplains remain a clear and unmistakable mark of Jewish leadership and service.
February 28th, Parashat Terumah [Shemot (Exodus) 25:1-27:19, Melakhim (Kings) 12:1-17]
Parshat Terumah is filled with measurements—cubits of wood, loops of fabric, exact placements of gold and silver. At first glance, it can feel dry, even technical. If every word of the Torah is sacred, why does God devote so much space to building instructions? But when we step back, something deeper emerges: this is not just about construction—it’s about relationship.
God and Israel are at the beginning of their covenantal journey, learning to trust one another, testing boundaries. By delivering the Israelites from slavery, God has upheld the divine side of the covenant, acting as protector and redeemer. But will Israel fulfill their part? Will they follow, even when there are no miracles, no plagues, no parting seas—only instructions for building something sacred? The Mishkan is their first test. God asks them not just to build a physical structure, but to build holiness, not only in the wilderness but within their hearts.
Why does God care about every detail? Because creating a sacred space isn’t just about the finished product—it’s about the love, care, and intention we bring to it. The Mishkan is the first time the Israelites aren’t simply receiving divine gifts; they are creating something for God. Each person brings what they can—gold, silver, colorful yarn, or the labor of their own hands. This isn’t about perfection; it’s about participation.
The details of the Mishkan remind us that holiness isn’t random. We don’t stumble into meaning; we build it. Brick by brick, act by act, we shape the sacred in our lives. When we bring intention to the spaces we create—our homes, our communities, our relationships—we make room for something greater than ourselves.
Maybe that’s why God cares about every cubit. Not because God needs a perfect house, but because we need to learn how to bring holiness into our world, one careful, loving step at a time.
February 21st, Parashat Mishpatim [Shemot (Exodus) 21:1-24:18, Yirmeyahu (Jeremiah) 34:8-22;33:25-26]
This Shabbat, we join thousands of synagogues throughout the world in celebrating Repro Shabbat, sponsored by the National Council of Jewish Women. We commit to teaching our communities about the Jewish halakhah (law) of abortion access and reproductive health access. This week, we read Parshat Mishpatim, a portion filled with laws that shape the ethical foundation of Jewish society. Among them, we find a verse that speaks directly to the Jewish view on reproductive rights.
“When men fight, and one of them pushes a pregnant woman, and a miscarriage results, but no other harm ensues, the one responsible shall be fined (monetarily)...” (Exodus 21:22-23)
The Torah is making a striking distinction: the loss of a pregnancy, while serious, is not considered murder. Instead, it carries financial restitution. This understanding of the fetus reflects the designation that an unborn fetus does not hold the same status as a living person.
The Mishnah (Ohalot 7:6) goes even further, stating that if a pregnancy endangers the mother’s life, it must be terminated because her life comes first. This is not just a legal ruling – it is a moral imperative. Judaism demands that we uphold life, dignity, and well-being above all.
Judaism acknowledges the pain and complexity that enters decision making of reproductive health and commands that we act with compassion. Our tradition does not judge those who make these choices – it supports them.
As we read Parshat Mishpatim, we are reminded that Jewish tradition has always valued justice (Tzedek), mercy (rachamim), and the dignity of those making difficult choices. May we continue to create a world where these values guide us, where those in need of care find support, and where we uphold the sacred principle of life, especially the life of the person already here.
