Recently, I was listening to an episode of a podcast “Being Jewish” with Jonah Platt with his guest for the week, Rabbi David Wolpe. The two had an intriguing back-and-forth discussion of the kosherness and myths of tattoos. Especially around the narrative that if a Jew were to get a tattoo, they could not be buried in a Jewish cemetery. Which is completely false. If you don’t believe me, Google it. Rabbi Wolpe had a profound insight towards the end of the episode; the transcript is as follows:
Rabbi David Wolpe: “So the issue with a tattoo is this, you are not allowed to deface your body. And the reason you’re not allowed to is that your body is a gift. It’s a loan. Right. You have to return it.
“But if you see it as an enhancement to beauty, then it’s permitted. If you see a tattoo as an enhancement to beauty, then I think there’s a very good argument why you could get a tattoo, because it’s not defacing your body.”
I want to start off and say I am a practicing Jew, in the conservative movement, with too many tattoos to count. I know, my poor mother. The moment I turned 18, I was sitting in a chair at a tattoo parlor. I have a full left sleeve, and sporadic art pieces from my ankles to my shoulder blades. Some pieces are Jewish, some are for my children, I had a piece done for my mom, and one done for my husband. Some of my tattoos are quite frankly random, like some beautiful neo-traditional drawings from my tattoo artist, which is his specialty. And some of my favorites are done after recovering from my personal struggles with addiction.
Maybe that is why I, more than others, understand former hostages and family members of hostages getting tattoos. Like Or Levy, a released hostage, who posted a photo of his new tattoo with an inspirational quote of Hersh Goldberg-Polin, who was murdered at the hands of Hamas in captivity days before rescue. Or Mia Schem, a freed hostage, who was taken hostage from the Nova Music Festival on October 7th after being shot in the arm. She tattooed the words after her release, “We Will Dance Again” on her forearm.
Maybe getting tattoos can give a sense of control when everything feels too overwhelming to even put into words. Like Lucas Cunio, who tattooed a dinosaur in the jungle on his arm. “It’s a forest, a jungle,” he said in an interview with The Times of Israel, because our world is a jungle.” Lucas has two younger brothers, David and Ariel, who are still being held hostage by Hamas.
It should come as no surprise that my personal favorite organization that came onto my radar after October 7th is an organization named Healing Ink. The organization began in 2016 to give transformative tattoos to survivors of terrorism. The organization began tattooing survivors of 9/11. Then survivors of the 2017 massacre of the Route 91 music festival in Las Vegas, as well as survivors and first responders of the 2018 Tree of Life Synagogue shooting. Now the organization has completed two trips to Israel during active war. Hundreds of Israelis have now been tattooed for free. Healing Ink has tattooed October 7th survivors, released hostages, members of bereaved families, injured IDF soldiers, emergency responders, heroes of war, and displaced persons. The program has set up shop at sites like the Israel Museum in Jerusalem and the Tel Aviv Public Library.
The recipients first fill out an extensive application form, telling their story. Then go through an interview process with Healing Ink’s team of social workers and psychologists. The participants will share their personal story and be paired with one of the 50 artists from around the world they believe will be best suited to build the tattoo that client envisions. These pieces of artwork symbolize their unique journey. There are extraordinary photos on their social media of recipients keeping photos of their loved ones on hand as the needle buzzes.
Many of these tattoo artists who fly to Israel for healing ink are not Jewish and have no ties to Israel. They are just humans who are helping the only way they know. I sat with my own tattoo artist in 2024; he is not Jewish. He tattooed the state of Israel on my wrist. After, as he took a photo of his completed work, I mentioned to him, “Maybe don’t put this on your social media, I don’t want you losing clients.” He simply replied; “I don’t give a [profanity],” and posted my tattoo on his Instagram story that evening. Honestly, it is only poetic that this big, burly man who has been tattooing me for years, showed me his allyship to our people in that simple, hilarious statement.
I will always respect Jews who take the prohibition in Leviticus 19:28 seriously, when it comes to their interpretation of tattoos and believing them to be forbidden. I cover my tattoos at shul on Saturdays. Not because I am ashamed of my ink, in fact, I am very much in love with my tattoos. I want to show respect and mindfulness in the sanctuary on Shabbat. To treat the Sabbath with reverence for those who seek refuge. I will argue, however, that being a tattooed Jew in 2025 does not make you less of a Jew. Contrary to false myths in our culture about burial, when you see a Jew with a tattoo, you may be seeing courage stamped on their skin.
We tend to forget there are kind people in our corner, maybe in the least likely places like small tattoo shops around the world. Artists who are willing to pack their bags and head to our homeland in distress. Because they know in their heart, they could bring catharsis to our people with their tattoo kit.
I just got my first. And I struggled with all of this. Ultimately I knew it was a way I’m supporting my own survival. And strong is definitely how HaShem wants me to be!
Lovely article. I learned a lot.