They Were Kids In Love 🇮🇱

A Tribute To Sarah and Yaron

Image from the Embassy of Israel to the United States.

I’ve encountered many Jewish couples like Sarah and Yaron.

Sarah, 26 years old, from Kansas. A Jewish American from Kansas, of all places (see, we are everywhere). Degrees in international policy and diplomacy. A passion for bridging divides — Israeli and Palestinian, Jewish and Muslim. She didn't just talk about coexistence — she lived it, and in many cases lived in it.

And Yaron — 30 years old. Someone with a mixed religious background (Christian mom, Jewish dad). He was from Germany, but by way of Israel, where he returned as a teenager. He served in the IDF, studied religion, pursued interfaith dialogue, and I believe was also on a spiritual journey.

They met in Washington D.C., and that hits me a certain way, because PunkTorah (the organization powering Darshan Yeshiva and Pluralistic Rabbinical Seminary) have staff and rabbis there. And I live about an hour and a half from the nation’s capitol with my wife and young adult son, who this summer like Sarah and Yaron is off pursing his life, and making the world a better place at the same time.

But here’s the thing that hurts me most. And you might be surprised why:

They look like people I marry.
Kids, practically (when you’re middle aged, everyone becomes a kid).

I can imagine a couple like them talking to me the way any of these couples would.

They ask about whether it’s OK if there ceremony is on Shabbat
— or at least, at sunset.

They ask about if it’s OK that one of them comes from a mixed background
— or maybe has no Jewish ancestry at all
— or Jewish but not practicing.

And I’d be the one asking them, in a half joking way, if they felt pressure to have a rabbi from anyone, or if this was entirely their choice. Because sometimes, Bubbe threatens you with “I want to see you married by a rabbi before I’m dead” even if she’s in the best health possible.

These are the couples who want to choose their own version of Sheva Brachot, or who want to have non-Jewish ketubah witnesses, or who know all the “right” ways to have a wedding ceremony and just don’t have it in them…and at times, to be frank, will get hostile when you say “it’s OK, I’ll make your dreams come true” because they assumed you wouldn’t be able to help them at all.

This is peak wedding season here in my Richmond, Virginia home. And all I can think about was how Yaron was going to propose next week in Jerusalem.
The ring was bought.
The trip was booked.
The parents were waiting.

…And now, they’re martyrs.

This was an American story.
And an Israeli story.
And, more than anything, a human love story.

For Sarah and Yaron — may their memory be a blessing.