There seems to be a growing tendency among writers of Catholic fiction, especially of the short story, to fall back on the miraculous in the working out of the plot. There is a two-fold lure. The writers, possessed of a belief in the miraculous themselves, may aim at augmenting the faith of others, or they may use the miraculous as a deus ex machina in the evolution of a plot beyond mere human power, unaided, to solve. It may be contended that after all, as fiction, it is all in the realm of fancy and, being so understood by the reader, no harm is done. But consider how our sense of accuracy is being daily vitiated by the ordinary allurements of fiction and of film. And yet never was there an age when the possibilities of accuracy were greater, for research in every direction is piling up verified facts, which are gradually, though slowly enough, being disseminated. But there are so many who are being drugged into indifferentism, and even into unbelief, by the very embarrassment of the riches of the unveracious. Is it wise, therefore, to use a miracle like ‘a golden banner dragged in the mud’ to add to the enhancement of an ordinary tale, or even of a story grandly told?

It is an incredulous age, but it is not through the medium of fiction, no matter how reverently written, that belief in the miraculous will be inspired or increased.