Summer in Jerusalem Pt. 1: Flowers for Karina
Posted on 08/30/2024 @ 06:00 AM
Summer in Jerusalem Pt. 1: Flowers for Karina
Dr. Bella Tendler Krieger, CAJE’s Director of Adult Learning and Growth: The Center for Jewish Ideas and Engagement, was fortunate to spend five weeks in Israel this summer studying at the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem. Here are her reflections in the first of a 3-part series.
"The learning was thrilling, and I am eager to bring many of the insights I collected in Israel to our adult education programing at CAJE this year.
When I was asked to jot down a few thoughts about my experience, I struggled to pin down those that would encapsulate the joy, pride, and spiritual rejuvenation I experienced, along with the fear, despair, and anger palpable everywhere in Israel since October 7th."
Flowers for Karina
There was an oversized banner of Karina Ariev, a 19-year-old hostage, hanging on the street outside my apartment in Baka. It read, “Karina, we are waiting for you, and for all the hostages, at home.”
The poster was not unusual. Most of the wall space in Jerusalem, not to mention, the billboards and street signs, were plastered with images of the abducted Israelis.
“Kidnapped!” “Free our Hostages!” “Bring them Home Now!” they shouted. It was impossible not to learn their names and faces.
But this poster was very large and, hanging at a busy pedestrian intersection I passed several times daily, made a particular impression on me. As I’d rush by, inevitably late for class or some appointment, I’d meet Karina’s warm, conspiratorial smile and pray that she was holding up.
I noticed that every few days, there would be fresh flowers woven into the grommets on the sides of her poster. Once there was a bunch of plastic grapes, the kind my grandmother used to keep in a decorative bowl on her dining room table.
Then I started noticing that among the regular pedestrians, an elderly woman would stand in front of the poster, leaning on her shopping cart, talking animatedly. At first, I assumed that she had an earpiece in, her conversation and quick laughter seemed too lively for someone standing alone.
I kept noticing her, day after day. She was nearly always there, talking to the banner. It dawned on me that she must be crazy. I started taking a wider berth around her on my path.
As weeks passed, I grew embarrassed of my avoidance and started giving her tentative smiles.
Then one afternoon, I asked her, “Excuse me, do you know the woman in this poster?” She looked at me surprised. “I adopted her,” she said. At first, I did not understand, I thought that perhaps she was actually Karina’s adoptive mother. How terrible!
Then I realized that she meant that she had adopted the poster. She had taken it upon herself to care for it, decorate it, clean it, ensure that no punk graffitied it, or showed it disrespect. She had called the police several times when she thought it was threatened.
But mostly, she came and talked to the poster. She stood in front of it for five to six hours a day, filling Karina in on her day, relating the latest political developments, ensuring that she would not be alone. And she has done this for months.
I left her then, fighting back tears, unsure what was sadder-- the elderly woman who had dedicated her days to comforting a poster, or the abducted girl, captive in Gaza, who cannot know how many people think only of her return.
