"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal." (St. Paul in a letter to the Christian church at Corinth)
The crowd was roaring. The lone man in his impeccable tan colored uniform would step forward toward the lectern, then pause and let his eyes wander over the thousands of up turned faces -- all staring at him, waiting for him to speak. And they waited -- and they waited.
