June 9, 2025
This piece originally appeared in the Hartford Courant.
I am a Jewish parent with children not much younger than Sarah Milgrim and Yaron Lischinsky—the two beautiful souls gunned down outside the Capital Jewish Museum in Washington, D.C., on May 21.
Sarah could have been my daughter. Yaron could have been my son. They could have been any of our children.
They were not killed by accident, nor as a tragic footnote in some other story. They were murdered in cold blood because of a hate that has, inexplicably, become normalized in our society.
Because they were in a Jewish space. Because they were participating in a Jewish event—ironically, one dedicated to coexistence, to dialogue, to the very values that are supposed to hold our society together.
The man who murdered Sarah and Yaron reportedly said, “I did it for Gaza,” and shouted “Free Palestine.”
But let’s be very clear: they were murdered because of hatred toward Jews.
Let’s say that plainly. Let’s stop speaking in euphemism and start confronting this for what it is.
This should terrify all of us. It is the direct consequence of hateful rhetoric going unchallenged—of slogans like “Globalize the Intifada” or “Resistance by Any Means Necessary” being shouted on our campuses, posted across social media, and chanted at rallies.
We are witnessing what happens when the line between protest and incitement becomes blurred, when violent ideologies are laundered as activism, and when antisemitism is recast as political expression. When our government officials, educators, and campus administrators fail to stand up to this rhetoric and hate—as they would in any other instance and against any other community. And yet, there seems to be a special tolerance reserved by many for hate against Jews.
The assailant accused of throwing Molotov cocktails at a June 1 march in Boulder, Colo., in support of the hostages being held by Hamas shouted, “We need to end Zionists” and “How many children have you killed?”
It is exhausting to grieve again and again, to explain again and again, to fear again and again. Since Hamas attacked Israel on October 7, 2023, the Jewish community has been in a state of deep, ongoing mourning. We have been trying to process the unthinkable, only to be faced with the unrelenting.
And yet—alongside our grief—we’ve also seen resilience. We’ve seen strength. We’ve seen courage. Government officials, interfaith leaders, neighbors, and educators have reached out to express their condolences, to offer their support, to say unequivocally that this hate has no place here. And for that, I am profoundly grateful.
But words are not enough. We need meaningful, forceful, and immediate action.
We need education. Real education. We need to teach the next generation of leaders how to live with difference, how to engage in disagreement, how to be citizens in a society built not on uniformity, but on respect.
We need to not just protect our children, but to equip them to be part of the broader civic fabric, so Jews can be heard, supported, and uplifted—not isolated, harassed, ignored, or gaslit. Jewish fear is real. But so is our resilience. However, resilience must not become an excuse for the world to move on.
Sarah and Yaron were killed for being who they were. For showing up proudly at an event meant to foster peace and coexistence. That is the bitterest of ironies—and the most urgent of warnings.
Our children are watching. Let us teach them that hatred never has the final word—so long as we refuse to be silent.
