Tattoos
Author Ruth Rotkowitz reflects on the evolving attitudes toward tattoos in Jewish culture, from biblical prohibitions to modern expressions of healing and identity.
Editor’s Note: For the first time in my life, I’ve considered getting a tattoo—a simple Star of David—as a personal response to October 7. Tattoos have taken on deep meaning for many survivors of the massacre, symbolizing healing and strength. In this piece, author Ruth Rotkowitz examines how attitudes toward tattoos in Jewish culture have evolved, uncovering their spiritual and emotional significance while addressing common misconceptions. Through her exploration, we gain a deeper understanding of how tattoos can serve as acts of connection.. — Howard Lovy
Those of us who came of age in the fifties and sixties in immigrant Jewish households most likely grew up with an antipathy to tattoos. Who had tattoos then? Members of motorcycle gangs, tough criminals on TV shows, juvenile delinquents. The stereotype of tattoos as a designation of a ‘bad’ person was deeply embedded in the culture then.
What is the background to this attitude, this revulsion? Let us begin with the Bible. In the third book of Scriptures, Leviticus 19:28, the following is written: “You shall not make gashes in your flesh for the dead, or incise any marks on yourselves. I am the Lord.”
The chapter in which this injunction appears focuses on both ethical commandments, in which kindness and fair treatment to all people are emphasized, and ritual commandments, which forbid practices associated with pagan culture. At the time, the people of Israel were surrounded by pagan societies. Most likely, some type of tattooing was practiced among the pagans and there was a fear that the people of Israel would be attracted to these superstitious practices. A great deal of attention is given to the need for the Israelites to separate themselves from the idol-worshipping pagans they encountered, which meant rejecting their customs, especially the heinous practice of child sacrifice, forbidden in Judaism. The fact that ethical behavior toward others is combined in this chapter with ritualistic prohibitions implies the equal importance of both.
Apparently, according to records from the Near East, slaves in the pagan societies were often tattooed so that they could be returned to their owners if they ran away. Thus, tattooing became associated with ownership of human beings. This provided even more reason for the aversion to tattooing. The Israelites had recently been slaves in Egypt; they would not be drawn to a practice that was used to denote slavery.
It was not only in this part of the world that tattooing was common practice. Native Americans have adorned their bodies with tattoos for thousands of years. The discovery of mummies with tattoos placed at acupuncture points suggests that tattooing was used for medicinal purposes. Different tribes had different customs regarding tattoos, which often expressed some aspect of their heritage. Some tattoos were symbols of spirituality and it was believed that they bestowed strength. When someone was victorious in battle, they would often be rewarded with a special tattoo. The diversity and complexity of some of the Native American tattoos provide a window into the imagination and beliefs of these cultures.
Polynesian cultures, for thousands of years, valued tattoos for their meaning. Warriors were tattooed with elaborate geometric patterns that covered the waist down to the knees. Tattoos often signified social status; ritual ceremonies accompanied tattooing that celebrated a person’s entry into adulthood. The tattoo artist held an honored place in the society. The placement of a tattoo on the body was significant since various parts of the body represented different things; for example, the upper body represented spirituality and the lower body the world and earth. Certain designs, such as a turtle, a lizard, and the waves of the ocean were common tattoos as they played special roles in Polynesian mythology.
While the quote from Leviticus referred to earlier is the only actual mention of tattoos in Scriptures, there is an oblique comment in the book of Isaiah that is sometimes interpreted as a reference to tattooing. In Isaiah 44:5, we read of someone who “will write on the hand ‘The Lord’s.’” This seems to describe an Israelite declaring himself a servant of Gd by writing on his own hand. Since he is willingly aligning himself with a holy mission, it seems to be acceptable.
The belief that a Jewish person with a tattoo cannot be buried in a Jewish cemetery has no basis in Jewish law. This rumor has become so prevalent that an episode of Larry David’s TV show Curb Your Enthusiasm treats this subject humorously. However, it is not considered an issue within Judaism.
More modern times have played a role as well in our attitude toward tattoos. During the Shoah, inmates in the Auschwitz concentration camp were tattooed with series of numbers on their wrists. The purpose was to not only keep a record of inmates but to totally dehumanize them. Thus, in the period following World War 11, Jews especially abhorred any type of tattoo because of this association.
But it is now 2024 and things have changed dramatically! The concentration camp tattoos are the perfect example of the change in attitude. Some young Jews whose grandparents bear these tattoos are choosing to have their grandparents’ number tattooed on their own wrists. They are doing this as a way of not only honoring their grandparents, but of declaring to the world: We are still here! We choose to bear this number now – it is not you imprinting it on us! I see this as similar to the character Hester Prynne in Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, who chooses to continue wearing the large letter ‘A,’ her punishment for adultery, long after she no longer has to wear it. It is a form of defiance, a way of upending the narrative, turning victimhood into agency and control.
It is safe to say that tattooing today has gone mainstream. Tattoos are visible on men and women of all ages, cultures, and socioeconomic classes. In the gym, in the supermarket, in schools, on the street, tattoos are everywhere. Arms, legs, chests, backs, necks, faces – everywhere. Those who choose to be tattooed give a variety of reasons. It is seen as a statement of who the person is, what they value, what has inspired them, what they love.
I recently noticed a fairly long written passage on a young man’s arm. When I questioned him as to the meaning of this tattoo, he said it was a passage from his favorite childhood book, The Phantom Tollbooth. He smiled relating this, obviously happy to relive that memory.
On a personal level, tattooing came into my life via my daughter. When I first visited her in her apartment in L.A., where she had moved after college, she emerged from a shower wrapped in a towel and asked me to please wait for her in the living room while she got dressed. I thought at the time that she was self-conscious about her body and did not want me to see her naked. When she came to visit us in Arizona, where we live and where my mother, a Holocaust survivor, also resided, she always wore long slacks and long sleeves, even if the temperature was 100 degrees or more. My mother once remarked to me that she must always be cold.
Well, the day came when she decided to be open with us and reveal that her legs and arms were covered with colorful tattoos. She was afraid we would be angry. We were actually surprised – perhaps shocked at the array of tattoos she sported and the detail and beauty of the artwork involved. She loves animals and has all kinds of colorful animals up and down her legs. When I questioned her reasons for these choices, she explained that the tattoos are a record of things she loves. When I suggested that she might not love those same things one day, she responded that it would then be a record of things she used to love. On several occasions, when she was out and about in shorts, people have complimented her on her leggings, and she informs them that she is not wearing leggings!
“I like having another way to express myself,” my daughter explains. “It’s the ultimate way of presenting who you are to the world. It shows a piece of yourself to others. Instead of hanging a picture I like on my wall, I can put it directly on me and take it everywhere I go!”
Several years ago, she required gall bladder surgery and as we waited with her in the hospital while she lay on a bed with her colorful tattooed legs sticking out of the hospital gown, a doctor passed by and exclaimed that he loves her tattoos and that he loves his own tattoos. As he was wearing scrubs, we could not see any of them but he said his chest and back are covered and he wishes he had more places to get tattoos. Apparently, there is a secret – maybe not so secret – club of tattoo lovers and professionals are part of that now.
What do rabbis today think of tattoos among Jews? I spoke with Rabbi Andy Green, who leads Or Tzion, a Conservative congregation in Scottsdale, Arizona, about tattooing. The reason behind the Biblical prohibition, he explained, is that, according to Judaism, we are not the owners of our bodies. Gd is. He lends our bodies to us and we are obligated to return them in their original form, whole to Gd. Thus, tattooing is prohibited. The association to the Holocaust reinforces the taboo since, as he put it, “those who hated us did it to us.”
That being explained, however, Rabbi Green pointed out that while he would never choose tattoos for himself, Rabbi Green says he does not judge and would never deny the “comfort of Jewish ritual” or the “appropriate Jewish remembrance” to anyone. He compares this to denying any Jewish ritual to a Jew who does not keep kosher or observe the Sabbath. That would be ridiculous. No Jew should be made to feel alienated from Judaism.
Rabbi Green, if asked to officiate at a Jewish funeral or any other Jewish ritual for someone with tattoos, is open to performing it. In fact, he is friends with another Conservative rabbi who has a tattoo. He understands that a tattoo can be “incredibly meaningful.” When asked what he would say to a congregant who is thinking of getting a tattoo, his response was that he would inquire as to the person’s reasons and what meaning the tattoo would have. If a congregant were to complain that his or her child has tattoos and this bothers the congregant, Rabbi Green would emphasize that nothing is more important than keeping good relationships with your loved ones. A tattoo is a minor thing compared to the “greater value” of one’s relationship with one’s child.
While Rabbi Green is uncomfortable with an Auschwitz tattoo being recreated on the arm of a young person, he does see that it can be a form of “reclaiming” who we are. Again, he does not pass judgment and understands how “incredibly meaningful” a tattoo can be.
My daughter had the opportunity to connect with this very meaningfulness in her work with the organization Artists4Israel. On the organization’s website, its mission is clearly stated, “Artists4Israel prevents the spread of anti-Israel bigotry through art and helps communities and people affected by terrorism and hate.”
A few months ago, the organization took a group of tattoo artists from all over the world, both Jewish and non-Jewish, to Israel, where they tattooed survivors of the Nova Festival massacre and other Israelis who feel traumatized by recent events. This project, called Healing Ink, is dedicated to using art – in this case, tattoo art – to heal trauma. They tattooed 127 Israelis.
Those who wish to receive a free tattoo at an Artists4Israel event must fill out an application, answering questions about their story in as much detail as they feel comfortable. They are asked to explain their reasons for wanting a tattoo, what tattoo they want, and what it would mean to them. They must then meet (via Zoom) with a therapist, who determines if the applicant is psychologically ready to be tattooed. Most applicants are usually approved but my daughter recalled one incident where the applicant wanted a tattoo of a tank and guns. It was determined that he was not ready because what he wanted was a symbol of anger, and Healing Ink is not about anger but about healing.
According to Craig Dershowitz, founder and CEO of Artists4Israel, art is a powerful tool that can heal, bridge the divide between people, and conquer anti-Semitism by changing the conversation on Israel. In 2020, he reported that the organization has worked with over 8,000 artists from 32 different countries; that number may have increased by now.
“We will dance again” is an oft-chosen expression for the tattoos by Israeli Nova survivors. Mia Schem, who had been kidnapped on October 7th and released in November, chose that defiant and optimistic sentence as a tattoo.
What kind of tattoos do people choose and find meaningful? Many, including Dershowitz, have selected the date October 7th as a tattoo, sometimes pictured with a broken heart. Others choose to honor someone. Sarah Tuttle-Singer, a writer and media editor for Times of Israel, chose to honor the memory of one of the victims of October 7th, Shani Louk, the German-Israeli woman killed by Hamas and paraded through the streets of Gaza on a truck. Shani sported tattoos; in fact, it was her tattoos that allowed her body to be identified by her parents. She was also a tattoo artist herself.
Tuttle-Singer chose a dragonfly tattoo for her shoulder as it is one of Shani Louk’s designs and therefore honors her memory. Dragonflies are symbols of Israelis, according to Tuttle-Singer, since they “represent resilience and transformation. Despite their delicate beauty, they have grit.” Choosing the name of a victim for a tattoo or replicating a victim’s tattoo is another way some Israelis are honoring those who perished.
My daughter’s choice of tattoos represents the range of reasons people choose tattooing. Her first tattoo on her leg was of our family’s Golden Retriever, with his name, “Lucky,” which honors the memory of our beloved pet dog. Around his paws, she chose popcorn since she always insisted that his paws smelled of popcorn.
Another tattoo came to be when she provided a tattoo artist with the sentence: “The best revenge is living well” – a saying my mother often repeated when any of us expressed anger or resentment – and asked the artist to create something from that. The tattoo he devised is an adorable, fox-like animal finding a glowing flower peeking through a crack in the ground. She is thrilled with it. Discussion and collaboration with the artist is often part of the creation of a meaningful tattoo.
On her upper arm are a few tattoos of the faceting pattern of a Radiant cut diamond, which honors my uncle, who was a New York diamond dealer. He was the inventor of the Radiant cut, which combines the shape of the Emerald cut diamond with the sparkle of the Round cut. He was also an amazing person. As a thirteen-year-old refugee from Vienna who had escaped to France with his sister (my mother) and their parents, he actually saved the family by realizing that a call for refugees to “register” was not to be trusted and was, in fact, a roundup. Because of his sixth sense, they avoided that fate and survived.
After October 7th, my daughter felt the need to express something relating to that event, so she had a lulav and etrog, two items used on the holiday of Succot, which occurred around October 7th last year, tattooed on her leg.
Thus, her tattoos not only encapsulate her interests and but also honor her family history and her Jewish heritage. To many tattoo recipients, choosing a tattoo is seen as a means to control what happens to you, to exercise agency over your own body, which is a means of moving past feelings of powerlessness.
Back to the Bible. In Deuteronomy, Moses exhorts the Israelites to open their hearts and “not be stiff-necked any longer.” Can this be applied to attitudes toward tattooing? Feeling disgusted or uncomfortable with tattoos may be a difficult reaction to overcome. Rabbi Green’s statement that he does not judge others may help My daughter hopes those who object to tattoos can “challenge themselves to think bigger in order to move beyond preconceived notions.” Dershowitz notes that he enjoys seeing “ideas influenced by art come to life and grow,” a process he finds “truly magical” and “powerful.”
Let us embrace magic and power wherever we find it.
Ruth Rotkowitz is the author of two novels, Escaping the Whale and The Whale Surfaces. Both feature a daughter of Holocaust survivors as the protagonist. Having experienced, observed, and researched trans-generational trauma, Ruth has focused much of her writing on this issue. Her work has appeared in various literary journals and anthologies and she has served as a staff writer and member of the editorial board of the (now defunct) Woman’s Newspaper of Princeton, where her feature articles have garnered awards from National Federation of Press Women and New Jersey Press Women. Her blog features a series of interviews with children of Holocaust survivors and she volunteers with the Phoenix Holocaust Association. She has taught English on both the college and high school levels.
Five tiny delights
Watching birds build a nest in the tree outside my yard
Watching Instagram videos of dogs with children
Kahlua and cream (my alcoholic choices all resemble malteds!)
Reading outdoors on a sunny day
Discussing my novels with readers
Five tiny Jewish delights
Repeating the “Shema” to myself when feeling stressed
Hearing “Hatikva” sung, which brings me to tears
Smelling the spices in my spice box, reminding me of the sweetness in our lives
Analyzing a Biblical story when I see it in a new light
Discussing my novels with readers
My husband got his first tattoo at age 55 when we were in Israel last month volunteering for the third time since October 7. Getting it there was very important for him. Encorporated into his design - a weeping willow tree with eagle talons as part of the roots - is a Magen David in the trunk moving into the branches. It’s pretty badass.
Even though you can get buried in a Jewish cemetery if you have one, there are several compelling reasons why the Torah prohibits tattoos.
https://substack.com/@thinktorah/note/c-77948951