Danes risked all to save Jews from Hitler. We should do nothing less to protect Denmark from Trump. As JFK might have said, “Jeg er dansker!” "I am a Dane!"
Denmark was the most righteous among the nations. We need to emulate their stunning heroism rather than Stephen Miller’s ethic of “might makes right.” As JFK might have said, "Jeg er Dansker!"
What Stephen Miller told Jake Tapper of CNN last week was an affront to every lesson he learned in Hebrew School, where he was known as being “a provocateur.” It made me wonder whether his bar mitzvah took place at the Hunger Games. His childhood rabbi has criticized Miller as a purveyor of “negativity, violence, malice and brutality,” who had learned nothing from his Jewish spiritual education.
Well, that’s for certain.
In speaking on CNN of the proposed takeover of Greenland from Denmark, which could effectively end NATO and throw our civilization to the wolves, he said, “We live in a world in which you can talk all you want about international niceties and everything else, but we live in a world, in the real world, Jake, that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power,”
Here is the clip.
While I hesitate to share it, I think people need to hear the clip and thereby understand that this is the exact opposite of what we were taught to believe about America, and for most of us, this is not what we learned in our religious schools.1
No. In fact, the real world is governed by kindness. At least that’s what the Talmudic sages thought, or at least it’s what they hoped for. At the very beginning of their moral guidebook called Pirke Avot, “Sayings of our Mentors,” we find these two telling verses. Compare and contrast them to Miller’s dark Hobbesian ethic:
But the sages were not naive. The rabbis understood that not everyone in power would agree with their aspirational objectives. They must have had someone like Stephen Miller and Donald Trump in mind when they wrote, in the same tractate:
Yes, we shake our heads at how often has the Trump administration failed innocent people in their hour of distress. They’ve never failed to disappoint us with their lack of good faith. Even the Soviets could be trusted, by Ronald Reagan’s standards, as long as their pledges were verified. But Trump and Co. are not even as trustworthy as Brezhnev’s politburo. They are the Untrustables.
But the Danes. They are trust personified. The Danes saved their Jewish population in 1943, standing by them in their hour of distress. I share below the basics of that historical highlight; click on it for more details.
This story must be retold whenever anyone starts falling into a Miller Malaise: The Danes ferried Jews to safety, at enormous risk. It was an Underground Railroad, except by sea. Contrast that to how Trump’s goons “ferry” immigrants, including citizens, to imprisonment in other countries, rather than to freedom and life.2
Germany occupied Denmark in 1940. When the Germans decided to deport Jews from Denmark in August 1943, Danes spontaneously organized a rescue operation and helped Jews reach the coast; fishermen then ferried them to neutral Sweden. The rescue operation expanded to include participation by the Danish resistance, the police, and the government. In little more than three weeks, the Danes ferried more than 7,000 Jews and close to 700 of their non-Jewish relatives to Sweden, which accepted the Danish refugees.
Sweden deserves a shout-out here too. It takes two to tango, a country to send out the Jews and another to accept them.
Incidentally, it is an urban legend that King Christian X and the citizens of Denmark wore yellow stars to protect Jews. In Denmark, the Germans never forced Jews to wear them, so it would not have been necessary for others to follow. But still, what matters here is that the Danes, including their political leaders, did what most other non-Jews in Europe did not do during the Nazi reign of terror: they risked all to save innocent people - to save Jews.
And for that alone, Denmark earns a non-expiring “Get out of Jail Free” card from the Jewish world, and from all peace-loving people.
They do not deserve to have their sovereignty violated. No one does. An exposé in last week’s issue of the New Yorker, Denmark is sick of being bullied by Trump, acknowledges that the relationship between Denmark and Greenland is complicated, but also demonstrates how the two populaces are united in their anger toward Trump’s anti-Denmark tactics that, incidentally, have a direct impact on many Americans, including yours truly. His attack on the Danish energy company Ørsted’s billion dollar Revolution Wind project, which is designed to provide cheap wind power to residents in Connecticut and Rhode Island, has been in the news lately. Even though the nearly completed project is being protected by the courts for the moment,3 Trump’s animus toward wind turbines knows no bounds (It can’t just be abour a golf course in Scotland; one must have blown his hair out of whack or something), and Danes are seething at these attacks.
They, like most Europeans, don’t seem to like America at the moment. I feel a moral obligation to defend the Danes in this battle, and it isn’t even close.
Yes, there’s been antisemitism in Denmark, highlighted by an ISIS-inspired terror attack on a Bat Mitzvah party at a Copenhagen synagogue, which took place in 2015. And since October 7, 2023, there has been a “violent escalation” in antisemitic attacks.
No matter. Denmark still deserves our eternal gratitude. Remember 1943.
What it doesn’t deserve is for its territory to be invaded.
Several years ago, I visited the synagogue where the Copenhagen attack took place and took note that above the entrance is inscribed the Hebrew phrase “Baruch ha-ba b’shem Adonai,” “Welcome to all who enter in God’s name.”
The sign is so perfect for Denmark, which, although its immigration policies have moved from among the most liberal in Europe to one that is far more restrictive, still carries the aura of 1943. That can never be erased.
Sadly, when you pull back the lens, you see that the sign sits on a building that is heavily fortified, and it hardly looks like a place hosting people who feel truly welcome in that country, or any country these days.
A young congregant of mine was studying in Copenhagen when the attack took place in 2015, and she wrote this to me: 4
The outpouring of love and support from the community here in central Copenhagen has been truly profound. Jews and non-Jews alike have been paying their respects at the site of the second attack, but it has also been very eerie and confusing time for many, including myself…
My reaction to the attacks remains in stark contrast to the reactions of most Danes. Denmark's society is a very trusting one. For instance, during the winter months, the sun is very rarely seen-the skies are consistently gray. So when the sun is shining bright, daycares here will bundle up the babies in their care and place them in their carriages out in the sun, usually on the sidewalk-for the most part unattended. That's just how this society works, and before the attacks I thought it was so beautiful and interesting-if someone left a bike unlocked in front of a store in Washington D.C. within hours it would be gone for good. Reflecting upon this aspect of society following the attacks, it's hard for me to say whether or not I'm comfortable submitting to this Danish way of life. Trust is such a fundamental aspect of society here and is engrained in much of their routine, it would be hard for me to adjust back to my new "Danish life" if you will-if I abandoned all trust because of one tragic event; I do have a lot of faith and trust in this country and the people that I have met here so far.
The Danes have welcomed me so warmly during my first month here and I'm looking forward to the next 3 months I have in Scandinavia and Europe (and for the sun to be a more frequent visitor). Copenhagen is such a beautiful city. Hatred does not belong here; it doesn't belong anywhere.
The New Yorker article confirms that people still leave their baby carriages unguarded on the sidewalk when the sun is shining. I suppose the babies are safe, but maybe it’s best not to leave any Nobel Peace Prizes under the blanket. We’ve seen that they are subject to being ripped from the arms of their rightful owner by gluttonous Americans.
JFK (the guy whose Center for the Arts was ripped away most recently) famously told the people of Berlin in their time of their isolation at the hands of another bully nation, "Ich bin ein Berliner" ("I am a Berliner.")5
Well today, I proudly declare, on behalf of all kindness-embracing people of the free world, “Jeg er dansker!”
Denmark was the most righteous among the nations. We need to emulate their stunning heroism rather than Stephen Miller’s disgusting social Darwinist ethic of “might makes right.” It’s what the ancient rabbis would have done.
The world stands on judgment, truth, peace and acts of lovingkindness. The rabbis knew that 2,000 years ago. Denmark reminded us in 1943.
Now we need to return the favor.
And it’s nice to see Catholic leaders adding their moral voices to this message:
The rescue:
The latest, as of January 12
Here’s the full letter:
The Copenhagen Shooting-A Reflection
By Lauren Pollack
I had just gotten home from a short study tour in western Denmark when I heard the news of the first shooting. It’s sad to say but as soon I heard that the shooter had fled the scene and the police had begun a manhunt in and around my neighborhood my thoughts instantly jumped to the Copenhagen Synagogue, situated in the heart of Copenhagen, which also happens to be less than a 2-minute walk from my apartment.
I fell asleep before the shooting at the synagogue happened, but at around 2 AM one of the SRA’s in my building (Social Residence Advisor-similar to an RA in a college dorm except they’re more like mentor and friend) came running downstairs to check if we were all home and safe. I saw how nervous and shaken he was, my housemates started chattering about a shooting that had just happened at the Synagogue. I grabbed my phone and I checked the news. I saw what I had so unfortunately expected; someone who had been guarding the Synagogue during a Bat Mitzvah had been shot and killed.
The day after the attack I kept finding myself leaving my apartment to walk over to the Synagogue; I went three times in one day. With each hour the piles of flowers, candles, and notes grew larger and larger. The sidewalk is still covered in flowers and candles, and more fresh bouquets are laid down each day. Each time I visit I weave in and out of the people in the crowd and the police who have been stationed there to protect the visitors and the city as a whole.
The outpouring of love and support from the community here in central Copenhagen has been truly profound. Jews and non-Jews alike have been paying their respects at the site of the second attack, but it has also been very eerie and confusing time for many, including myself. A friend of mine has been attending Shabbat services at the Chabad house here in Copenhagen and this upcoming weekend she invited me for Shabbat. But the questions I keep asking myself are, “Do we go now?” “Is it even more important that we go this Shabbat, or would we be making a mistake or taking too big of a risk?” I keep finding myself considering sacrificing my freedoms of expression, religion, and speech so that I can ensure my safety and avoid calling attention to myself as an American, and as a Jew. Where is that line between being cautious and sacrificing my beliefs in the wake of such a devastating attack?
I think that I have also experienced the attacks differently because I am Jewish. I have noticed that even though just a few days have past since the attacks, everyone is still somewhat in shock, scared, and upset. I think those same feelings will linger with me a bit longer than many of the students here. Many of my American friends did not contextualize this event and consider it as something that fits into a larger more systemic issue currently facing Jews in Europe and around the world. It’s unsettling to me that one of my most immediate thoughts after the first shooting was that Synagogues need protection, that Jews in Denmark, myself included, were very vulnerable.
My reaction to the attacks remains in stark contrast to the reactions of most Danes. Denmark’s society is a very trusting one. For instance, during the winter months, the sun is very rarely seen-the skies are consistently gray. So when the sun is shining bright, daycares here will bundle up the babies in their care and place them in their carriages out in the sun, usually on the sidewalk-for the most part unattended. That’s just how this society works, and before the attacks I thought it was so beautiful and interesting-if someone left a bike unlocked in front of a store in Washington D.C. within hours it would be gone for good. Reflecting upon this aspect of society following the attacks, it’s hard for me to say whether or not I’m comfortable submitting to this Danish way of life. Trust is such a fundamental aspect of society here and is engrained in much of their routine, it would be hard for me to adjust back to my new “Danish life” if you will-if I abandoned all trust because of one tragic event; I do have a lot of faith and trust in this country and the people that I have met here so far.
I trust that the Danish police, whose presence was very scarce in Copenhagen before the attacks (part of the trusting nature of the Danes), are working hard to protect this city and me. I trust that my abroad program is working hard to make this situation as manageable as possible and provide resources should any student feel overwhelmed and distracted. I trust that the uneasiness I feel walking around will slowly dissipate, as I know I cannot feel this way forever.
Life moves on. That isn’t to say that there is nothing the world can learn from what happened; we have seen attacks like this one before, in Paris at Charlie Hebdo and the Kosher supermarket for instance, where many more people lost their lives because they were targeted for exercising their right to free speech and for being Jewish (and in the wrong place at the wrong time). I think personally however, it’s important for me to focus on not letting this event dictate how I feel about Denmark, how I feel about being a Jew (especially during such tumultuous times for Jews in Europe and around the world), or influence my time in Copenhagen and my travels.
The Danes have welcomed me so warmly during my first month here and I’m looking forward to the next 3 months I have in Scandinavia and Europe (and for the sun to be a more frequent visitor). Copenhagen is such a beautiful city. Hatred does not belong here; it doesn’t belong anywhere.
Below are some photos that I took the day (afternoon and night) of the shooting of the flowers, candles, and letters that have been placed on the sidewalk in front of the Synagogue:
JFK did not mistakenly say “I am a jelly doughnut.” That is an urban legend.
Thank you for this, a very timely piece and very much to the point.
Thank you, Rabbi Hammerman, for your humanity, your faith, and for sharing your wisdom. I am always moved by your reflections and the way you speak to both the heart and the conscience. In times like these, your words remind me that compassion and moral courage still matter.