A Heavy Word

As many of you know, a few weeks ago I turned 30. It’s somewhat of a milestone in my life. 30’s a big number. While in my 20’s, people could disregard some of my antics and irresponsibility on my age. I was still an adult, but with some forgiveness there when I needed to shirk off my duties and run downstairs to the my Xbox. But 30 strikes me as a little different. You are called to a higher standard in your 30’s. When I pine for a day or two of laziness, the bills on my counter and the Jumperoo in my living room remind me that life will not stop for me to indulge myself. I am a man- like it or not.

So, I got a tattoo for my birthday.

I had been mulling this idea around for a while that I wanted one. But those who know me know of my fear of needles. I can’t even go by myself to the doctor for shots, so how in the world would I be able to get thousands of tiny shots that inject ink into my body?

But I did it. We pulled into a Daytona Beach shop called GenerationX (we did some research online to find a “reputable” shop) and I marched right into the front lobby with my design: “Kadosh” in Hebrew- translated “holy” and “set apart”. I wanted this word on my body to remind myself that God has called me to be this very word. I find it incredibly beautiful.

As I gave my design to the clerk behind the counter he replied, “Hebrew, huh?”

“Yep.”

“You know, we have a couple of guys from Israel who work here.”

“Really?”

The clerk passed the sheet with my future on it to a short guy with a red cap turned around backwards. He had a goatee and no noticeable tattoos on his arms.

“Are you Jewish?” He asked me.

“ Nope. Just a student of Hebrew.”

“Hmm. if you were, I would talk to you about this. I would try to talk you out of doing this.”

So, was this guy a practicing Jew? In a tattoo parlor? I knew what the Old Testament law says about marking your body, but I had to ask.

“Why?”

“Because it’s against the Torah.” Aha! So he’s a Jew of some kind . . . but I’m still kinda wondering why this guy works here, but we keep talking.

“Are you Jewish?” I ask.

“Yes. I am studying to become an Orthodox Jew.” He pulls off his red cap to reveal a yhamika hiding underneath.

“So, do you go to “mikva?”

“Yes, as often as I can, at least a couple of times a week.”

“Do you have any tattoos?”

“Nope.”

Then he changes the discussion back to the tattoo,

“This word that you want to have on your body. This . . . this is a heavy word. It is in all the prayers we pray. You are choosing a serious word. If I was going to tattoo you- I just couldn’t do this.”

A wave hit me. Did I really realize what I was about to do? Did I really think this through? Should I have decided to do something different? Maybe God was reminding me to take this more seriously than I was.

“But you can do what you want. I’ll set you up with one of our artists.”

So, he took my money, and assigned me to a guy who was to put this word on my body forever. Clearly, he wasn’t a full Orthodox Jew, cause he immediately went outside to smoke a cigarette.

Still, it made me think about this experience and what I was about to do. I resolved to do this, but with a new appreciation for this word- HOLY.

Can I live up to this standard?