Temple Emanuel of Kensington MD held its annual Martin Luther King, Jr. Commemorative Shabbat on January 16, 2026. Our Guest Speaker was Joshua Maxey, Executive Director of Bet Mishpachah and a member of the Commission on Social Action of Reform Judaism.
Rabbi Adam –
It's my honor to invite back to the bimah Candace Groudine, who's going to introduce our special guest for the evening.
Candace Groudine –
Good evening.
David Fishback would be here where I'm standing, however, he's still recovering from a recent illness, and so he asked me to read his introduction of our guest speaker this evening, and so here I am.
I want to thank David, Rabbi Adam, Sandra Fleishman, and the entire staff of Temple Emanuel for all the hard work they've done to make this evening's event possible.
We are very fortunate to have as our speaker this evening Joshua Maxey.
His topic is None of Us Are Free Until All of Us Are Free. Intersectionality, Jewish Values, and the Ongoing Struggle for Justice.
Josh grew up in Rochester, New York, and is a 2015 graduate of St. Bonaventure University in Western New York.
Immediately drawn to community service, he moved to DC to work with Street Sense, which many of you may recognize as a newspaper written and distributed by homeless people in our nation's capital. He managed vendors and connected them with available social services.
Josh subsequently worked on the Hill, but found more satisfaction in engaging in direct action through the nonprofit sector. He next served with the Franciscan Mission Service.
In 2018, Josh became a member of Washington Hebrew Congregation, where he helped develop and continues to be active in that congregation's Racial Equity Committee.
In 2022, he was hired as the first executive director of Bet Mishpachah, DC's LGBTQ+ synagogue.
Josh works locally with the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington on outreach to diverse populations and discussions about how we can move forward in these turbulent times in which we find ourselves.
And, as a member of the Commission on Social Action of Reform Judaism, he is plugged into the full range of issues facing the Jewish community nationally, including its relations with our allies and the struggles for social justice.
Joshua Maxey is an example of Dr. King's teaching that social advances come "through the tireless efforts and persistent work of dedicated individuals who are willing to be co-workers with God."
This evening's speaker is such an individual.
Welcome to Temple Emanuel, Josh.
Joshua Maxey -
Shabbat Shalom.
It is truly an honor to be here with you all this evening as we gather for MLK Shabbat, and I want to thank Rabbi Adam.
To Candace, to David, who I know is watching on the livestream, and for the entire Social Justice Committee, thank you so much for your warm hospitality, inviting me here.
This evening, we gather in sacred time and in this sacred community, holding two inheritances, We inherit Shabbat: Our weekly declaration that every human being is entitled to rest, dignity, and freedom.
And we inherit the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. A prophet of our modern age who reminded this nation that "justice delayed is justice denied."
MLK Shabbat is not only about memory, it's about moral accounting. It asks us not only why, or what, rather, did Dr. King fight for. But also, what does his unfinished work demand of us now, as Jews, as Americans, as human beings created Bezaleim Elohim, in the image of the Divine.
Tonight, I want to share briefly one core truth that stands on the heart of both Dr. King's theology and our Jewish tradition: None of us are free until all of us are free.
This is not a slogan. It is a worldview rooted in shared humanity. It is a moral claim about dignity. And it is profoundly and deeply Jewish.
Dr. King understood something radical and essential. Our freedom, all of our freedom, is interconnected.
He rejected the idea that one group could be liberated while others remain oppressed.
He rejected the comfort of partial justice.
He rejected the lie that freedom could be individualized.
In his Letter from the Birmingham Jail, he wrote words that we all know well, that "injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."
Judaism has taught this for thousands of years.
The Talmud reminds us "Kol Israel arevim zeh ba'zeh," that we are all responsible for one another.
The Torah teaches that liberation is never a solo journey. God did not take us out of Egypt alone. God took an entire people, a collective, out of bondage.
True freedom is shared freedom.
If my neighbor's dignity is denied, then my own is diminished.
If my neighbor is unsafe, then my safety, too, is fragile.
If my neighbor is not free, then my freedom remains incomplete.
When we speak about intersectionality, we are naming something very human. The reality that our identities overlap race, gender, class, disability, sexuality. And the systems that oppression often overlap.
Some hear the word intersectionality and assume it as a new phrase or a very divisive phrase. But Judaism has always understood that our humanity is complex. And that dignity must be protected in that complexity.
Jewish identity itself has been intersectional.
We are a religious people, and an ethnic people.
We are Jews of Color, Mizrahi, Sephardi, Ashkenazi.
We are immigrants.
We are refugees.
We are economically secure and economically precarious.
We are queer and straight, disabled, able-bodied, Jews by birth, Jews by choice.
There is not, and never has been, just one Jewish experience.
Intersectionality simply calls us to live up to the mandate to honor the dignity of all people, especially those whose dignity is most often denied.
Dr. King understood this very well. He did not fight racism alone. He fought against poverty, against anti-Semitism, against economic exploitation, against militarism.
And even toward the end of his life, many former allies abandoned him not because he was wrong in his teaching, but because he insisted on the truth that dignity is indivisible.
I speak to you tonight not only as a leader in this community, but as someone whose life exists at multiple intersections.
As Candace mentioned, I serve as the Executive Director of Beit Mishpachah, which is DC's LGBTQ synagogue.
I'm a person of color, I am a gay man.
And I'm also a Jew by choice.
I chose Judaism because I found a home where I could fully be my authentic self.
I found a tradition that demands that I honor my own humanity and the humanity of others.
Leading a community that lives at so many different intersections, I see every day that dignity and inclusion are not abstract ideals. They are the very air that we breathe.
Over the years, with the support of local synagogues and organizations like Federation and the Commission, we've created many programs across the DMV that lifts up Jews of Color, not as a special category, but as an expression of truth, that Judaism is not a monolith. It is a beautiful mosaic. And to fail to honor that diversity is to violate human dignity.
Yet within our own Jewish spaces, too many voices still go unheard: people of color, LGBTQ members, people with different disabilities and abilities, and others often experience micro-aggressions, invisibility, or quiet assumptions about who belongs.
These experiences are not just personal. They reveal the places where our sacred spaces fall short of the values that we claim to uphold.
And beyond our synagogue walls and our Jewish institution walls the call to justice still continues. Just this past Tuesday, I stood at the Supreme Court in support of our trans siblings as the Court heard a case about transgender participation in sports.
I watched as a brave, young trans person stepped to the microphone and read their personal reflection. And this person was probably around 12 years old. And they read a poem of courage and truth, and in support of the community.
Moments later, an opposing speaker shouted, on a microphone, "Your existence is ridiculous!"
"Your existence is ridiculous."
Now, imagine being a child and hearing that. Imagine how crushing that is.
Moments like this remind me why this work is so urgent. We must uphold human dignity. Always. And we must do so across difference, grounded in our shared humanity.
That is why solidarity beyond our community also is not optional. Interfaith partnerships and alliances are essential for justice.
As one of the readings reminded us today, we must recommit ourselves to strengthen our bonds with those who share our values.
I often hear in circles when we talk about building communities and building relationships with other communities, that we as Jews should focus on ourselves first, secure our own safety. And then we'll worry about others after.
And given our history as a people, that impulse I can understand. But Jewish tradition is unequivocal. Trauma does not cancel human dignity.
The Torah commands us, "You shall not oppress the stranger, for you know the soul of the stranger."
And as Dr. King warned us, silence in the face of injustice -- the appalling silence, as he described, of the good people -- is always a failure of dignity.
And Shabbat itself is an embodied form of justice. It insists that economic status does not determine who rests, that authority does not exempt anyone from obligation, and that care extends beyond humans to all living beings.
Shabbat teaches us that worth is not earned, that dignity is not conditional, and that humanity is not transactional.
Dr. King's vision was ultimately rooted in hope.
We read earlier where he said, we are simply seeking to bring into full realization the American dream. A land where everyone will respect the dignity and worth of human personality.
And yet, he reminded us that this journey to the Land of Promise is far from finished.
Even in his final days, Dr. King refused despair. He said, "I will not yield to a politics of despair God grant that we will be that David of Truth set out against the Goliath of Injustice."
As we honor and go through Shabbat, I invite us to sit with a few questions:
Where am I being called to see and honor the dignity of every person, especially those whose voices are often unheard?
How can our Jewish spaces more fully live out shared humanity and inclusion?
Where in our broader communities are we called to stand in solidarity, even when the stwhen the struggle does not directly touch us?
If our humanity is shared, then our responsibility is shared.
If dignity is sacred, then justice is truly non-negotiable.
May we be brave enough to resist the comfort of partial justice.
May we honor the divine image in every human being.
And may we live the truth taught by both Dr. King and our Jewish tradition that none of us are free until we all are free.
Shabbat Shalom.
Rabbi Adam –
Thank you, Joshua, for your wise and inspiring words.
MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR., COMMEMORATIVE SHABBAT SERVICE
TEMPLE EMANUEL, JANUARY 16, 2026
None of US Are Free Until All of Us Are Free:
Intersectionality, Jewish Values, and the Ongoing Struggle for Justice
Officiants: Rabbi Adam Rosenwasser and Cantor Lauren Adesnik
Candle Blessings: Alex Clay and Neel Goldberg
Readers: Aaron Northern, Sue Berman, Candace Groudine, and Ian DeWaal
Introduction of Guest Speaker: Candace Groudine
Guest Speaker: Joshua Maxey, Executive Director of Bet Mishpachah and member of the
Commission on Social Action of Reform Judaism
Board Representative: Julie Ross
(Thank you to Temple Members David Fishback and Sandra Fleishman who helped prepare the materials for this Service.)
Readings
Here at Temple Emanuel, we display with pride the iconic photograph of Dr. King and Rabbi
Abraham Joshua Heschel at the Selma March which led to the enactment of the historic Voting
Rights Act of 1965. Rabbi Heschel was Dr. King's great ally and a scholar of the Jewish Prophetic Tradition, and he reminded us that the "prophet was an individual who said 'No' to his society, condemning its habits and assumptions, its complacency. The purpose of prophecy is
to conquer callousness, to change the inner man as well as to revolutionize history."
In the spirit of Dr. King and Rabbi Heschel, this evening is a time to recommit ourselves to
work against the related challenges of white supremacy and anti-semitism, including efforts by those in power to judicially destroy the Voting Rights Act. We also must recommit ourselves to strengthen our bonds with those who share our values. While this particular moment is fraught with legitimate concerns that the American Experiment is being destroyed, we must, like Dr. King, strive to make it work.
Dr. King's vision was rooted in a faith that right would prevail: "The arc of the moral universe is
long, but it bends toward justice." But he also knew that only through the work of our own hands would the world become a better place: "Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable.... No social advance rolls in on the wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts and persistent work of dedicated individuals, who are willing to be co-workers with God."
Dr. King explained that "We are simply seeking to bring into full realization the American dream
-- a dream yet unfulfilled. A dream of equality of opportunity, of privilege and property widely
distributed; a dream of a land where [people] no longer argue that the color of a [person's] skin
determines the content of [their] character; the dream of a land where every[one] will respect
the dignity and worth of human personality - this is the dream."
"When it is realized, the jangling discords of our nation will be transformed into a beautiful
symphony" and everyone "will know that America is truly the land of the free and the home of
the brave."
We also remember that the journey to this Land of Promise is far from finished, and that there
are powerful forces intent on destroying so much of the progress we have made since Dr. King’s time.
Just days before his assassination in 1968, just two months before the Poor People's Campaign
March on Washington, Dr. King, in a sermon just a few miles from where we sit tonight,
proclaimed, "I will not yield to a politic of despair. I'm going to maintain hope.... God grant
that we will be that David of truth set out against the Goliath of injustice, the Goliath of neglect,
the Goliath of refusing to deal with the problems, and go on with the determination to make
America the truly great America that it is called to be."
CONGREGATION:
Let us learn in order to teach.
Let us learn in order to do.
