Gilleleje

MAY 27, 2025: Aside from Copenhagen, Gilleleje is the only place on this trip where we stayed for more than one night—and for good reason. We arrived yesterday afternoon and plan to leave tomorrow morning, giving us a full day to explore this small fishing town at the northern tip of Zealand. Gilleleje played a remarkable role in the rescue of Danish Jews during World War II, and traces of that history are found throughout the town.

A quick recap: When Nazi Germany occupied Denmark in 1940, the Danish government negotiated a deal to retain autonomy and protect its Jewish citizens. But in August 1943, that arrangement collapsed. Martial law was imposed, and the Nazis planned a mass arrest of Danish Jews on October 1st—Rosh Hashanah. A German diplomat leaked the plan, giving the Danish resistance and the Jewish community just days to act. In an extraordinary act of national solidarity, most of Denmark’s Jews were hidden and ferried across the Øresund Strait to neutral Sweden—many by local fishermen.

Gilleleje was both a route to safety and, tragically, a site of betrayal. Nearly 20% of Denmark’s Jewish population passed through this small town—most reaching safety in Sweden. But for some, the journey ended in tragedy, as they were discovered and arrested by the Nazis before they could escape.

Today, this town of 6,500 residents honors its wartime legacy with memorials scattered throughout—not just to the Jews who were rescued or captured, but also to the courageous Danes who helped them. Our list of what to see in Gilleleje was long.

We began at the harbor, where a wooden ship’s stem stands as a monument to the over 1,200 Jews who escaped from Gilleleje to Sweden, and to the fishermen who sailed them there.

“During the Nazi deportation of the Danish Jews in 1943, Gilleleje came into focus. In the first days of October, hundreds of refugees flocked to the city from Copenhagen. Fishermen and locals joined forces in a humanitarian effort to help people in need. From the coast at Gilleleje, over 1,000 Jewish refugees were successfully transferred to Höganäs in Sweden.“

Nearby is a plaque by artist Gerda Thune Andersen, one of seven she created to honor the events of October 1943. Each plaque includes Jewish symbols and Hebrew text. The one at the harbor reads “Mazal”—Hebrew for “luck” or “fortune.” It is also the beginning of “Mazal Tov” – congratulations. Andersen imagined the fishermen offering this word of hope to the Jews as they disembarked safely in Sweden. The design incorporates a Star of David, and the short, powerful word fit perfectly into the limited space.

Another plaque stands at the train station and reads “HaTikva”—The Hope. “Hope” was used as a code word among rescuers and is also the name of Israel’s national anthem. It was the theme of a symphony performed here on the 70th anniversary of the rescue. It perhaps also evokes the emotion when Jews reached the station, knowing they were on their way to safety.

In town, on Østergade street, a plaque in front of a store bears the word “Mitzvah”—meaning a moral and ethical duty. The store once belonged to Tage Jacobsen, a known opponent of the Nazis who displayed anti-Nazi signs in his store windows. When Dr. Kublitz, a Jewish refugee from Copenhagen, knocked on his door asking for help, Jacobsen took in the family. He considered it his mitzvah. In 1943, Gilleleje had a population of just 1,700, yet hid 1,200 Jews. They didn’t see them as outsiders—they were fellow Danes.

Across from Jacobsen’s store, another plaque marks a hayloft where Jews were hidden. Inscribed with the Hebrew phrase “V’Higadeta” – “You shall tell your children“, it echoes the Passover tradition of passing down the story of liberation from generation to generation. Just as that ancient story is retold each year, so should the story of Gilleleje in 1943 be remembered and shared.

Before coming to Denmark, I didn’t know the story of the Jewish rescue here. When I began telling it to my 10-year-old granddaughter in New York, she interrupted me: “I already know about that.” She had read Number the Stars by Lois Lowry in school—a young adult novel about a ten-year-old Danish girl who helps her Jewish friend escape the Nazis. The book won the 1990 Newbery Medal and is assigned reading in many U.S. classrooms. I was glad to learn that “You shall tell your children” is actually taking place.

On October 5, 1943, the Gestapo raided Gilleleje Church and discovered 80 Jews hiding in the church loft, along with another 20 in the nearby parish hall, waiting for their turn to cross into Sweden. The Jews were arrested and eventually deported to Theresienstadt Concentration Camp. To this day, it remains a mystery how the Nazis learned of their hiding place. Local lore says the priest, devastated by the raid, was never the same again.

Near the church entrance stands a plaque inscribed with the words: “May the Lord bless you and protect you” (Numbers 6:24). This ancient blessing, once spoken by Aaron to the Israelites, is still recited today at the close of church services.

The parish hall, now serving as a community center, bears a plaque inscribed with the Hebrew word “Zachor”—Remember. This word, recited during the Passover seder to recall the Exodus from Egypt, takes on the same meaning here: a call to remember the events that happened in this place.

A seventh plaque is said to be located on the beach just south of town. It reportedly reads “Shaddai”—God Almighty, marking the launch site of the first rescue boats. We searched along the shore but never found it. Some descriptions mention only six plaques, so it’s possible this one has been lost to time.

The escape wasn’t simple. Gestapo patrols often blocked the harbor, and children were sometimes given sleeping pills to keep them quiet. Some parents even left children behind rather than risk the journey. One such child was Tove Udsholt, just three-years-old when her mother fled to Sweden. A local fishing family in Gilleleje took her in. Years later, when she was reunited with her mother, she no longer recognized her. Tove eventually returned to Gilleleje to live with her adoptive family. She is one of 148 Jewish children hidden in Danish homes, schools, and orphanages during the war.

To mark the 80th anniversary of the rescue, a new memorial called “Displaced Horizon” by artist Karin Lind was unveiled on the Gilleleje beach in October 2023. A 10-ton granite boulder, split and shifted horizontally, reveals a polished surface engraved with “October 1943,” aligned precisely with the sea’s horizon—pointing to the route toward Sweden.

Nearby stands “Teka Bashofar Gadol,” a six-meter bronze sculpture by Israeli artist George Weil. Named after a line from a Hebrew prayer—“Let the great shofar proclaim”—it depicts a man sounding a shofar, calling for freedom and remembrance. Donated in 1997, by Israeli shipowner Yuli Ofer, it honors the townspeople who helped rescue Danish Jews, while remembering those who were captured.

In the local history museum, The Ship Halls, houses an exhibit about the rescue. It includes eyewitness accounts and one of the few surviving dinghies used in the crossings. Unfortunately, the museum was closed the day we were there.

Gilleleje offers much more than the Jewish history we came to explore. The town center is full of charming shops and cozy cafes.

Our hotel had one of the best restaurants in town. For lunch, I finally got to taste a traditional Danish open-faced herring sandwich – a smørrebrød – made with marinated herring, red onion, egg, capers, and dill on dense rye bread.

After lunch, we took a stroll along the town beach. Despite the chilly weather, we saw brave swimmers in the sea.

The long day ended appropriately with a rainbow over Gilleleje harbor. Rainbows often symbolize hope and renewal – exactly what Gilleleje gave to the Danish Jews.