This week, we open the Book of Bamidbar, literally, In the Wilderness. It’s a book about movement and chaos, about people seeking structure, purpose, and home in the vast unknown. The parasha begins with a census, not just numbers, but names. God commands Moses to count each person individually and recognize each soul as irreplaceable and worthy.
That idea, that every person matters, that no one is anonymous, is the heart of what makes a life holy.
Sarah Milgrim HI”D was one of those holy souls. She wasn’t someone who shouted to be seen. She didn’t lead with ego or noise. But she glowed, with compassion, with conviction, with a quiet strength that softened rooms and strengthened hearts. She was grounded. Graceful. And radiant in her love, for Israel, for peace, for healing the world in the ways only women know how.
Like the Levites in this parasha, Sarah lived a life of sacred service. The Levites weren’t warriors or politicians; they were caretakers of the Mishkan, carriers of the holy. That’s what Sarah was. A carrier of holiness. She brought light into hard places. She held the fragile. She walked through the wilderness not with fear, but with fierce faith.
We met in Morocco through the AJC Michael Sachs Mimouna Fellowship for Emerging Leaders. We bonded instantly, two women from opposite ends of the Jewish world, one in Israel and one in Washington, DC, drawn together by a recognition older than words. Maybe it was our shared experiences of antisemitism, hers in Kansas, mine in New Delhi. Maybe it was our passion for sustainability and social justice. Or maybe it was the joy. The laughter. The spontaneous dance parties. The love of overpriced jewelry and perfectly curated restaurants. The stubborn optimism.
The man who killed Sarah did not even know her
And now, she’s gone and taken from us by a heinous act of antisemitism. Last week, her life was taken by an angry man, screaming “Free Palestine!” in the streets, believing he knew what liberation meant. But he didn’t know Sarah. He didn’t know that Sarah was the one who could’ve actually freed Palestine. Not through rage. Not through destruction. But through listening. Through empathy. Through hope.
Sarah didn’t carry signs; she carried people. She didn’t shout for freedom, she lived it. She offered it, in the way she loved. She became it in the way she believed that justice and peace could hold hands. If we had followed her way, her grounded way, her loving way, we might already be free. All of us.
But instead, the gentlest woman I knew has become a symbol of suffering. She never asked for that. And so, it is up to us, those of us who loved her, who knew her, to tell the whole story. To say her name not just with sorrow, but with pride. To speak of the world she was building with Yaron. The life she dreamed of. The home she longed to create. The love she carried so fiercely, so tenderly.
In Bamidbar, the Israelites prepare for the wilderness ahead by standing in their place, by being counted. Sarah stood in her place with clarity and courage. And now, even in her absence, we count her. We count her not in numbers, but in impact. In legacy. In the lives she touched and the love she left behind.
To Sarah: You were the answer to prayers this world didn’t even know how to whisper. And now it is our sacred task to carry your Mishkan. To hold what you held: compassion, courage, and the fire of peace.
May your name be a blessing.May your spirit move with us through every wilderness.And may we be brave enough to build the world you dreamed.
Amen.
In Loving Memory of Sarah Milgrim HI”D
Mayan Chin Jacobi is an Israeli educator and community leader specializing in Jewish Peoplehood and Israel-Diaspora relations. She serves as CEO of Magnolia Israel Tours, curating meaningful and sustainable trips to Israel for families and communities. She is an active member of AJC Access Israel and a dedicated volunteer with Culture of Solidarity.