Say Their Names Even If the World Won’t

In a just world, their names would already be spoken on campuses, printed on signs, lit up in candlelight vigils.

There would be rallies. Coverage. Condemnation. Marches calling for justice.

But this is not that world.

This world has grown comfortable with Jewish pain. Even now, with two young peacebuilders gunned down outside a Jewish museum in Washington, the silence is almost total. And that silence says more than words ever could.

So it is on us to say their names.
Sarah Milgrim.
Yaron Lischinsky.

Sarah, 26, grew up in Overland Park, Kansas. She was a proud American Jew, dedicated to dialogue and inclusion. She believed in building peace through action.

Yaron, 30, was a German-Israeli with both Jewish and Christian roots. He dreamed of becoming a diplomat. He believed his background could be a bridge, not a burden. He championed the Abraham Accords and saw a future for regional cooperation in the Middle East. He carried that vision to the Israeli embassy in Washington.

They were partners in life and work, soon to be engaged. They had just left a reception for young Jewish diplomats focused on humanitarian solutions in the Middle East. That was when he struck. He opened fire as they walked out, shouting slogans from a conflict oceans away. But his target was clear. He chose a Jewish event at a Jewish institution in the capital of the United States, spilling blood that served no cause and brought no one closer to peace.

Sarah and Yaron did not die in a vacuum. Their murders happened in a climate where antisemitism is excused, where hatred of Israelis is tolerated, and where dehumanizing language about Jews has become normal. The taboo that once kept such rhetoric at the margins has been erased. The slogans are louder, the lines are sharper, and the empathy is gone. But Sarah and Yaron did not cower in front of that worldview. They stood in full view, choosing courage and choosing peace. They paid for it with their lives.

They were different in many ways. One was a young woman from the American heartland, the other a German-Israeli man with a hybrid identity. But they shared something essential: a relentless belief in dialogue, peace, and the dignity of all people.

There will be no global campaign. No hashtags. No celebrity tributes or public mourning. The world reserves its outrage for victims who are not Jews, who are not associated with Israel, and who fit a simpler narrative. Sarah and Yaron do not. So the world will look away. But we will not. We remember. We speak. We say their names.

Because the world they tried to build is still possible if we choose to remember them and carry their names.

So say them. Out loud. Often.

Sarah Milgrim.
Yaron Lischinsky.

Their memory is not just a blessing. It is a responsibility.