Real culture is a form of resistance. It's the music or art of communities. It affirms a particular reality. It strengthens our understanding of who we come from and what our struggles are. It is a thing of beauty crafted by the hands of our friends. It flies in the face of the smart weapons in technicolor that get beamed into our living rooms along with ads that teach us to doubt ourselves.
The words of the Palestinian standing in the ox cart won't make high-tech news/entertainment. The powers fill our airwaves with a glut of nearly meaningless content in order for us not to notice the man in the ox cart. Our only chance of hearing those words is to shelter a holy space in the chaos-moments alone, but more importantly with children and friends-when we can combine our voices and rhythms in a music that creates a stillpoint for the turning world.
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