of heart can disturb it.

If you have a difficulty, well, it is a difficulty, and nothing more. A
difficulty does not destroy a thesis that is solidly founded. Once a
truth is clearly established, not all the difficulties in the world can
make it an untruth. A difficulty as to the truth revealed argues an
imperfect intelligence; it is idle to complain that we are finite. A
difficulty regarding the infallible Church should not make her less
infallible in our mind, it simply demands a clearing away-Theological
difficulties should not surprise a novice in theological matters; they
are only misunderstandings that militate less against the Church than
against the erroneous notions we have of her. To allow such
difficulties to undermine faith is like overthrowing a solid wall with
a soap-bubble. Common sense demands that nothing but clearly
demonstrated falsity should make us change firm convictions, and such
demonstration can never be made against our faith.

Not from difficulties, properly speaking, but from our incapacity for
understanding what we accept as true, results a certain obscurity,
which is another feature of faith. Believing is not seeing. Such
strange things we do believe! Who can unravel the mysteries of
religion? Moral certitude is sufficient to direct one's life, to make
our acts human and moral and is all we can expect in this world where
nothing is perfect. But because the consequences of faith are so
far-reaching, we would believe nothing short of absolute, metaphysical
certitude.

But this is impossible. Hence the mist, the vague dimness that
surrounds faith, baffling every effort to penetrate it; and within, a
sense of rarefied perception that disquiets and torments unless