Elaborate crucifixes, kitschy prayer candles and colourful plastic rosaries – for centuries, Christianity has relied on aesthetics to communicate the Divine, drawing the faithful closer to something greater than themselves. But today, those disconnected from institutional systems are rekindling their personal connection to the sacred, not through pews or prayer halls but instead through tattoos of religious iconography.
In recent years, more individuals of faith have begun embracing religious tattoos as personal devotion. “Biblical angels have been my hyperfixation since high school,” says Noella, a 22-year-old artist and practising Catholic. Her tattoo of a throne angel with 44 eyes, and the phrase “fear not” reflects her connection to scripture. “The glitz and glam of Catholicism has always drawn me in… religion is art when done right.” Rediscovering faith after a bad relationship, her connection deepened, leading her to research the Bible as an adult. For Noella, a religious tattoo is a reminder to advocate for justice in the world, such as speaking out against the persecution of Palestinians and the transgender community, and against “fascism within the Christian community itself”.
Many major monotheistic religions have historically discouraged tattooing altogether. In Orthodox Judaism, tattoos are prohibited by Levitical scripture; certain Christian denominations, particularly evangelical or conservative sects, preach against them, and in Islam, permanent tattoos are generally considered haram, rooted in hadiths that warn against altering God’s creation. But tattoos have also long carried spiritual associations. In traditional Māori culture, tā moko is used to show ancestry, status and spiritual identity. Since the third century, there is evidence of Coptic Christians in present-day Egypt and Syria tattooing small crosses on their wrists as acts of their devotion. Recently, a monastery cemetery in Sudan uncovered a semi-mummified individual with Christian symbols tattooed on their foot. Radiocarbon dating suggests the man lived between CE 667 and 774.
Despite that, however, traditionally spirituality was confined within the walls of churches, temples, and mosques, governed by doctrine. But today, that structure is fracturing. More people are seeking spiritual connection outside of organised religion, carving out belief systems rooted in personal meaning rather than institutional authority. Spirituality can now be found within tarot spreads, sound frequencies, and digital rituals. Sacred experiences have moved into bedrooms, onto social media feeds, and scrawled across diary pages.
Young people are looking for God. A recent study revealed that 62 per cent of 18 to 24-year-olds identify as “very” or “fairly” spiritual, with Gen Z being the least likely generation to identify as atheist. Yet, this spiritual shift hasn’t led them back to traditional places of worship. As The Times notes, growing spiritual interest doesn’t equate to fuller churches; figures from the Church of England show that nearly a third of congregations now have “zero children” in attendance.
“Religion, for me, is more cultural than dogmatic,” explains art and culture writer, Isabella, who has a tattoo of Santa Rita, an Italian Catholic saint holding a skull and cross. “Reclaiming, repurposing and subverting religious imagery feels more like an act of homage and reinterpretation than one of rejection,” she explains. For Isabella, this tattoo is a way to honour her Catholic heritage. “Santa Rita is native to Cascia, where my family originates, so getting this tattoo was a way to reconnect with the lineage of strong, spiritual women in my family who came before me – Catholic mystics, healers and devotees of the Virgin Mary and female saints like Santa Rita.”
As spirituality becomes more self-directed, it increasingly embraces an aesthetic-driven approach. What was once confined to traditional religious practices is now free to be reimagined. This shift allows individuals to extract symbols from established religions, like angels, crosses and rosaries, and adapt them to their own spiritual needs. This transformation in religious aesthetics has mirrored broader cultural shifts. We see it in things like God’s Favourite hats, the infamous Addison Rae Holy Trinity bikini or the coveted cross necklaces from Chrome Hearts. Susan Sontag’s Notes on Camp illustrates this shift; camp “sees everything in quotation marks. It is the self-consciousness of the aesthetic. It is not a lamp, but a ‘lamp’.” These aesthetics, even those drawn from the sacred, can be transformed into a kind of playful irony. Religious imagery is now reinterpreted through an aesthetic lens. Cue Lana del Rey’s “Born to Die”.
This dilution of religious imagery in popular culture explains, in part, the rising attraction to religious iconography in tattoos. This generation’s relaxed attitude toward body art means that any aesthetic circulating within culture is bound to make its way onto our skin. It’s the result of a generation raised in online spaces where self-expression is not only accepted but celebrated. It’s this same attitude that is behind the rise of post-ironic tattoos and the increasing popularity of ’cutesy’ designs. But beneath this widespread embrace of tattoo culture, there’s a deeper undercurrent: for some these tattoos are a means of reclaiming a personal connection to the sacred, as they reinterpret religious symbols in a way that aligns with their own spiritual journey.
As some individuals detach from institutionalised religion, others are re-engaging with it – albeit from a distance using tattoos as a way to do this. “I like to pick and choose what aspects of it resonate with me,” says investment analyst, Imogen, whose tattoos, including the Virgin Mary, the Sacred Heart and other Catholic iconography, reflect her approach to spirituality on her own terms, free from the constraints of institutional dogma. Imogen’s spiritual journey was marked by a period of rebellion when she distanced herself from religion. “I was very institutionally religious growing up, but I rebelled when I realised I was gay and felt disconnected from religion entirely.” However, following the death of her grandmother, Imogen found solace in reconnecting with her Catholic heritage. Though her re-engagement with faith is selective, her tattoos remain a tribute to her familial legacy.
