How odd it is, that the turn of the tongue, tension on the vocal chord, expansion of the lung, gives honor or withholds it; displays the contents of the heart, even the depths of the soul.  My mastery of your accent, the idioms of your mother tongue, your way of expressing heart language; in the end, my submission to your birth household, demonstrates love in ways nothing else can.  God confused the languages at Babel to scatter men over the face of the earth, and quell the uprising of pride and its towering symbol.  And in so doing He created a path for men to demonstrate the opposite of the natural habit of pride of nation, language, upbringing, wealth and edifice.  When I submit myself to learn your soul tongue, I show love sourced in the Fountainhead.  I incarnate my alien self as one of the People.  And the Good News gains glory and power.  How indeed, shall they hear, without a preacher, and more than this, one who submits to babel, and releases hold of Latin, Greek or Arabic.  Receive Christ, repent, be baptized, O People.