For the Bentows of Denmark, making aliyah represents something unique for each of the five family members. For mother Metti, it is a chance for the former El Al flight attendant to make aliyah for the second time in 25 years. For father Matisyahu, a former El Al security agent and observant Jew by Choice for decades, it is an opportunity to practice Judaism comfortably and in a supportive community. For two children, it means serving in the IDF. For the youngest son, it is a chance to integrate into Israeli society through attending school with peers. For the whole family, aliyah is a logical next step in their love for and commitment to Israel. It is also a practical response to the antisemitism experienced on many occasions in their native Denmark.
Metti first made aliyah at age 18, lived in Israel for five years, and worked for El Al. “They sent me back to Denmark for one or two years – that was the plan,” she smiles. She adds, “I met my husband, we had three kids, and returned to Israel 25 years later.”
Matisyahu, known at the time as Claus, was studying Hebrew at university. He was inspired by a female friend at the university (who worked in security for El Al) to consider working for El Al security. “They were in doubt about my Jewishness, even though I was in the process of conversion from age 22,” he says. He spent time in Israel working on a kibbutz but found the Rabbinate to not be very supportive of his conversion.
“We met at El Al and realized it would be the two of us,” reports Metti. Matisyahu converted, the two married and had two children in just over two years. “We discussed aliyah many times over the years,” Metti adds, noting that they spent the first 15 years of marriage “exploring our level of Yiddishkeit.” The two agreed that raising the children “Jewish and as proud Zionists” was important. “From the moment they first breathed, we sang Shema and ‘Hatikvah,’” Metti notes proudly.
The Bentow family lived in Copenhagen in close proximity to the Great Synagogue and the Chabad House. They joke that they lived near the Rabbi Triangle, an area of town close to the homes of three rabbis. The children attended Jewish day school and kindergarten, frequently visited Israel, and spent a lot of time discussing and debating Israel and other Jewish topics around the table.
While the family discussed aliyah from time to time, daughter Hannah, even as a preteen, was clear in her plans to move to Israel. “She told us that the moment she can, ‘I will move to Israel and join the IDF. I will never live in Denmark!’”
This prophetic pronouncement came before the tragic, life-altering day of February 15, 2015, when she was celebrating her bat mitzvah.
A Denmark bat mitzvah tragedy: Violent antisemitism
During Hannah’s bat mitzvah, which had been postponed and rescheduled due to her maternal grandmother’s death, a terrible community tragedy took place. Dan Uzan, 37, a beloved Danish Jewish security guard, was shot and killed outside the synagogue by a terrorist. Two Danish Security and Intelligence Service police officers were also wounded in the attack. “I think I understood it was something that would change our lives forever,” recounts Metti, teary-eyed. The attack and a series of additional antisemitic events in Denmark were transformative for the family.
Metti recounts that nine months after the attack at the synagogue, a 15-year-old Danish girl, who had become radicalized by a Muslim friend, was arrested for a plot to bomb a school. “Maybe it is time to take off Jewish symbols,” Metti thought. Hannah and Jacob told their mother, “It is never going to happen.”
Within a short period, Jacob, who usually tucked in his Jewish star when walking late at night in Denmark, was attacked and beaten up. One month later, Hannah’s Israel necklace was torn from her neck, and she experienced antisemitic taunts (including seeing swastikas and hearing chants of “Free Palestine”) at school.
When the Halle Synagogue in Germany experienced a shooting on Yom Kippur on October 9, 2019, Metti was deeply worried and said, “That’s it. We can’t stay here! I feel pushed out.” She notes that the idea of leaving Denmark, their home, was not joyous.
Jacob, who had recently completed a carpentry apprenticeship, started considering serving in the IDF. He even considered the possibility of serving with Hannah but realized it would be difficult with his family being so far away. As the family was exploring options, Metti was pleased to learn that Heidrick & Struggles, the executive search and management consulting company headquartered in Chicago, which she had been working with for eight years, was opening an office in Tel Aviv. “‘This is your chance,’ my boss said.” She then broke the news to her children, who were delighted.
As the Bentows approach the second anniversary of their aliyah, they are honest about the successes and the challenges. “It is important to not do it for one reason only – you need a multitude of reasons to make aliyah, as there will be hard days,” says Metti. While Metti moved to Israel and continued working for the American company as executive assistant and office manager, Matisyahu has had a more difficult time finding employment. Despite having a bachelor’s and a master’s degrees and experience in the mental health field, degrees and certifications are different in Israel; he is currently working as a security guard, as well as a caregiver to the elderly.
The Bentows came to Israel to return to the place that Metti had come to years earlier, to get away from European antisemitism, to offer their children the chance to contribute to their new country through service in the IDF, and for a better religious life. Matisyahu is happy that he and his family can “live life fully as Jews in a strong community.” He also notes that he can’t go back to Denmark now, as “pro-Palestinian forces have taken over public discourse, they tear down posters of hostages, and threaten Holocaust survivors.”
Metti describes their time in Israel as “an adventure” and encourages olim to adapt that approach. The Bentows are pleased with the extraordinary health care in Israel. They encourage olim to come with good Hebrew language skills and financial security and/or a decent-paying job. “You won’t make Danish wages. You will want to come with a job if you can and get out of the minimum wage trap!” advises Matisyahu. “Don’t come for material reasons.”
While the Bentows did not come for materials reasons, they admit it is wonderful to be able to go to a supermarket and “eat meat daily without it costing half of your salary.” That was not the case in Denmark.
The Bentows no longer live in Denmark, but they have many reminders of their former country. There is a community of Danish Jews in Ra’anana, and they regularly remember Dan Uzan, the beloved security guard from their old shul. There is a KKL Forest (Casuarina Circle) in Israel named in his memory, and the Bentows remain closely connected to the Uzan family.
When Jacob, 22, completed eight months of intensive training in the IDF’s Nahal Brigade in July, he received a special gift: Mordechai Uzan, the father of Dan Uzan, came to his tekes kumta (beret ceremony) and presented Jacob with his own army beret.
The Bentows will always be connected to their former home of Denmark and their beloved current home of Israel. ■
The Bentow Family From Denmark to Ra’anana, 2021