Sarah Milgrim’s Death Was a Tragedy. Distorting Her Legacy Would Be Another.

Opinion|Sarah Milgrim’s Death Was a Tragedy. Distorting Her Legacy Would Be Another.

In a world flooded with empty slogans and online posturing, Sarah Milgrim was something far rarer: a quiet peace builder. She didn’t seek headlines. She sought dialogue. Just a few years out of college, she was already known for her engagement with organizations that brought together Christians and Jews and Muslims, Israelis and Palestinians. Her final master’s degree research project was on the role of cross-cultural friendships in peace-building.

It was exactly that interest that allowed our paths to first cross in Morocco, less than one year ago, and in New York City just last month.

This week those who knew Sarah as I did learned with horror that she was murdered outside the Capital Jewish Museum in Washington, alongside her partner, Yaron Lischinsky, in what authorities have called a politically motivated, antisemitic attack. The couple were shot again and again as they left an interfaith event about “turning pain into purpose” — a night dedicated to humanitarian collaboration, including efforts to aid civilians in Gaza. The shooter allegedly shouted “Free Palestine.” The irony of that moment is so sharp, it almost feels scripted.

But that is not the memory I want to hold.

Sarah’s legacy must not be co-opted, not by the person who shot her, and not by those who now wish to brand her with their politics or make her a poster child for a cause. Sarah’s name should not become a pawn, nor a rallying cry, for those who seek to weaponize her death for political gain on either side of this conflict.

The Sarah I knew was a practitioner of what might be called peace diplomacy.

I met Sarah on an interfaith trip to Morocco, about 9 months ago, during a fellowship organized by the American Jewish Committee and the Mimouna Association, an organization that preserves Moroccan Jewish heritage and history. Our program brought together Jews and Muslims from across the United States, Israel, France and Morocco. It was her first visit to my country. Sarah was an American Jew and I am a French-Moroccan researcher. I’m Muslim, and my work focuses on diplomacy and peace-building in the Middle East, particularly initiatives such as the Abraham Accords, as well as the everyday people-to-people relations that can make peace a reality. From the beginning of our fellowship, it was clear that Sarah believed in the possibility of a different Middle East, one built on coexistence, not conflict.

My first impression of her was how moved she was by the beauty of the Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca. There she learned about Morocco’s longstanding tradition of coexistence and the deep roots of Abrahamic dialogue that have long nurtured Jewish-Muslim friendships in the country. Out of respect for the local customs and the sacredness of the site, Sarah asked a companion to photograph her outside the mosque, wearing a veil. In that moment, I saw her as the embodiment of a promise — one offered by sincere, mutual respect.