Tired of the summer heat? Let’s cool off by stepping into the “treasury of snow,” as described in the Book of Job (38:22). 

Where does one go to learn about snow? The internet, of course. According to SnowCrystals.com, run by some serious snow mavens at the California Institute of Technology, snowflakes are more fascinating than you might think. Would you believe scientists estimate that about a septillion — that’s a 1 with 24 zeros — snowflakes fall each year? And no two are alike.

But scientists love to classify things. So, how does one classify a snowflake? It’s not so easy. The divisions are often arbitrary. True, snowflakes come in different types, and if you’re a meteorologist, you need terms to discuss them. 

But ordinary folks like me should avoid what I call the Snowflake Syndrome: losing sight of a snowflake’s beauty while obsessing over how to classify it. Because, after all, a snowflake is a snowflake is a snowflake.

Similarly, many Jews today identify themselves and others by specific “denominations”: Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist. This practice can cause confusion because, like snowflakes, a Jew is a Jew is a Jew.

Yes, there are Orthodox, Conservative, Reform and Reconstructionist institutions. These labels reflect both their theology and their practice. They help identify synagogues, temples and their rabbinic leadership. But when it comes to individual Jews, those labels often reveal very little about what someone actually believes or does.

You might be thinking, “Come on, rabbi, that’s very open-minded, but you’re just being politically correct. I know an Orthodox, Conservative, Reform or Reconstructionist Jew when I see one.” 

And I would politely ask: Do you?

What about a Jew who belongs to an Orthodox synagogue but drives there on Shabbat? Or someone who keeps kosher but attends a Reform temple? What about a Jew who never steps into a synagogue but gives 20% of her income to tzedakah and lives a life of deep chesed (kindness)? Is she “secular” or a “none”?  

See the challenge? It’s not so easy deciding what kind of snowflake — or Jew — someone is. And even if we agree someone is Orthodox, the label tells only part of the story.

Consider this example. SawYouAtSinai, a Jewish dating site that combines online profiles with real matchmakers, offers a dizzying menu under “religious orientation.” Some of the options include:

Carlebachian, Conservative, Conservadox, Hasidic, Lubavitch (Chabad), Modern Orthodox (Liberal), Modern Orthodox (Machmir/strict), Modern Orthodox (Middle of the Road), Modern Yeshivish, Yeshivish, Traditional, Heimish (ultra-Orthodox), Balabatish (upper class), Unaffiliated, Spiritual but not Religious, Cultural Identity, Reconstructionist and Reform.

Nineteen categories of Jews! And that doesn’t even include the St. Louis Cardinals fan (OK, I slipped that one in for fun).

Of course, there are differences between a Hasidic Jew from Williamsburg and a Modern Orthodox scientist at Harvard. Yet “Orthodox” could describe either one.

Labels are supposed to clarify a person’s religious orientation. But often, they do the opposite. They can also shut down meaningful conversations about Jewish ideas and values. As a former congregational rabbi, I can’t tell you how often someone would say, “Rabbi, is it OK for me to visit your synagogue? I’m Jewish, but I’m not Orthodox.”

The reality is that many American Jews belong to synagogues without necessarily sharing the institution’s full beliefs or practices. Using denominational labels to define individual Jews often causes more harm than good. Labels are great for clothing,  but not nearly as helpful for classifying Jews.

If we feel the need to categorize, maybe the better questions are: What is this Jew’s level of moral, spiritual and ethical observance? Is she honest in business? Does he treat others with compassion? Is she charitable? Does he observe Shabbat? What is their relationship with God?

Assigning labels often creates meaningless divisions. Learning to look beyond those labels reveals the soul inside.

If you’re ever asked, “What kind of Jew are you?” the most accurate answer is: “I’m just Jewish.” When I’m asked that question, my response is: “In God’s eyes, I hope I’m a good Jew.”

And of course, the Snowflake Syndrome can lead to awkward moments. A woman goes to the post office to buy stamps for her Hanukkah cards. She asks the clerk, “May I have 50 Hanukkah stamps?” 

The clerk replies, “What denomination?” 

She stares for a moment, then says, “You have to be kidding! OK, has it come to this?  Fine, give me six Orthodox, 12 Conservative and 32 Reform.”

It’s a joke — but also a gentle warning. In this time of rampant antisemitism and global uncertainty, Jewish unity is more important than ever. But unity doesn’t mean melting away our differences. It means allowing each of us to stand side by side, unique yet part of the same tapestry.

So let’s avoid the Snowflake Syndrome: losing sight of the beauty and essence of every Jew while trying to classify them. Because after all, a snowflake is a snowflake is a snowflake. 

And a Jew is a Jew is a Jew.