Firsts - The beginning...

It is 34 days, 23 hours, 43 minutes and 30 seconds until Saturday, May 15, 2010 at 4:20 PM (Chicago time)...

...until Sydney, her friend, Sarah and I embark on a KLM flight to Cardiff.

I cant tell you how excited I am. Its a trip of many "firsts"....

Ive never had a passport until this trip...so first #1.

Ive never been out of the country where i NEEDED a passport...so first #2.

Ive always wanted to see the United Kingdom....first #3.

I could go on and on...however, this is but a beginning of what I hope will be a journal, of sorts, of my journey abroad.

Stay tuned.....

Tattoo Jew

We do it to mark a life transition.

We do it out of pride.

We do it to confirm our identity.

I did it because it would mean something to me forever.

And it will. It’s permanent. It’s a tattoo, and no matter how big, how small, how artistic or how Jewish a symbol it is, what we have done is forbidden by Jewish law.

The law that makes tattoos taboo for Jews is Leviticus 19:28, which states: “You shall not make gashes in your flesh for the dead, or incise any marks on yourselves: I am the Lord.”

It’s the second half of this passage that’s critical, according a Rabbi friend of mine.

Judaism has always seen our bodies as a gift from God. You should use your body as a house for your soul. It’s given to us on loan, and if you lease a car, you try to keep it in good shape for return. We should treat the body [well] and keep it in as good shape as possible. That’s part of the philosophical idea of it.

Regardless, many committed Jews are marking their flesh, and even using Jewish symbols to do so.

With tattoo parlors dotting boulevards and main streets in cities across the United States, bodily markings are no longer the insignia of skid-row types, bikers or sailors. They have entered the mainstream, and their popularity is undeniably growing. A Harris Poll released last year estimates that 36 percent of people ages 25 to 29 have at least one tattoo. In 2002, Esquire Magazine estimated that one in eight Americans was tattooed.

The reasons Jews are getting tattooed are as varied as the designs they proudly — and often defiantly — display.

I have a hamsa with the shema inside it tattooed on the top of my foot. A Middle Eastern and Jewish good-luck symbol featuring an open hand, the marking epitomizes my conflict between traditional Judaism and creative, expressive spirituality.

It’s also a constant reminder of my struggle.

I have recently decided to become a rabbi….and with that, attending rabbinical school.

Something about the hamsa feels very connected to me. I wanted some kind of proof to myself that what I was going through was a real spiritual struggle, that it wasn’t some little phase. Marking that permanently spoke to me. When the pain goes away, you have something beautiful.

Beautiful, yes, but at the same time, because I am training to be a rabbi, there is a part of me that is ambivalent about it. There are many things in the Torah that I don’t agree with 100 percent or don’t fit with me. You really have to check in with yourself and check in with God.

Others take a more defiant stand toward the Leviticus decree.

A friend of mine doesn’t believe in God, so the law means little to him. Raised in a Reform household, he decided to get a chai tattooed on his shoulder as an act of solidarity with Israel and also because it’s a symbol of good luck and life. But he’s also a proud Jew. “I’m so proud to be Jewish I wear it on me permanently,” he says.

But it’s not just Leviticus 19:28 that gives tattoos a bad name in Judaism; there are some other taboos associated with bodily marking.

Many Jews believe a tattoo will keep them from being buried in a Jewish cemetery. That’s a myth that doesn’t seem to go away.

There are burial facilities that have no policy against burying a tattooed Jew in their hallowed ground.

For me, it’s totally an art form. It’s not about rebellion; it’s about your body as a canvas.

Many older Jews don’t see it that way.

Since World War II, some think getting a tattoo disgraces the memory of the Holocaust and its survivors. Another friend defies that thinking. He has a Holocaust memorial tattoo on his chest: a Star of David with “Jude” written in the middle, all engulfed by flames. A lot of people see that and they’re really offended. It’s a real personal thing for him. He is really fascinated by the Holocaust.

It would be really stupid for me to get this tattoo as a mockery of all our people have gone through. But sometimes people take it that way, but that’s their prerogative.

Others, too, hear from people who tell them that tattoos are a slap in the face to survivors. I disagree vehemently.

I got a Jewish tattoo because my feelings are that I will never hide my Judaism from anybody.

The Holocaust inspired another friend to get a tattoo, too. In 1978, he participated in the famous Skokie, Ill., counter-demonstration against an American Nazi march in the heavily Jewish Chicago suburb.

“All these old women and old men peeled back their sleeves and showed their tattoos from the camps. It was really poignant.”

Galvanized by the survivors’ defiance, he, got his Social Security number tattooed on his forearm. It made [the Holocaust] real to him who sees his tattoo as a memorial.

You can’t talk about Jewish people and tattoos without relating to the Holocaust. The fact that so many Jews were forcibly tattooed is a painful memory that restrains many Jews from getting a tattoo even today.

Andy Abrams and Justin Dawson confront that issue head-on in a documentary and book they’re working on, “Tattoo Jew,” in which they interviewed dozens of Jews, many with Jewish-themed tattoos and many in the Bay Area. To visit that site, click here: Tattoo Jew

“There are people I have interviewed for whom it is an important political statement to be a Jewish person with a tattoo, particularly one with a Jewish theme. It takes a painful memory and turns it into Jewish pride. It reclaims our bodies symbolically,” Abrams writes. “It is a way for some to honor the tragedy their grandparents or parents experienced. It is a way to emphatically say ‘Never again.’”

One who has taken an extreme critique of Judaism’s view of the body — and women — is avant-garde British performance artist Marisa Carnesky, who explores tattooing, the desecration of the body, Lilith, the Holocaust and gender politics in a solo show she calls the Jewish Tattooess. In part of the show, which had its U.S. debut at UCLA recently, she outlines a Star of David on her navel with a tattoo gun.

In a bizarre way, that show made me think more about my identity. Tattoos have made me more Jewish.

When Jews get tattoos, some grapple with more than halachah and a little pain. Telling their parents — especially their Jewish mothers — is a whole different challenge.

With so-called “nice” Jewish girls and boys getting discreet roses on the ankle or hamsas on the foot, tattoos seem to have lost much of their shock value. But at some point, those “nice” Jewish girls and boys will be Jewish moms and dads, and grandmas and grandpas…with tattoos.

Although it’s expensive and can be painful, getting rid of those “permanent” tattoos is now possible using lasers, although small discolorations or scars may remain.

Some opt for henna or temporary tattoos, although some halachic authorities might object if the tattoos last for more than a week. (Oddly enough, Dover Publications once offered “Jewish Holiday Tattoos,” a booklet of temporary tattoos aimed for kids ages 4 to 8. The title has since been discontinued.)

My next tattoo may be a tree of life whose roots spell out adamah (Hebrew for “earth”) - who knows!

I don’t think it should be [against Jewish law]. I understand it, but … it felt like a message to me.

I try to look for a deeper message, that my body is a gift, and it was given to me to cherish and to live in and to really experience. I feel in a way that I am following the law, though I can see there are people I work with who do disagree.

I am not too worried about people disagreeing with my decision to get a hamsa tattoo on my foot or feeling like I have to conceal it. It’s going to show and if people question me about it, I will give them a straight answer. I want people to ask about it and let them know that there is a potential conflict with Judaism. The Torah is pretty clear; don’t get a tattoo.

It is pretty clear that it fits in with the kind of rabbi I want to become. I sort of see myself as always having a job to sort of shake people up a bit.