The Church teaches that someone who is invincibly ignorant of God’s revelation concerning the necessity of baptism can be saved without the sacrament.[1]  But this applies only to someone who has the use of intellect and will to seek truth and do the will of God in accord with their understanding of it.[2] So, the question is, “What happens to infants to who die without baptism? They don’t have the use of their intellect and will.”

Some theologians have proposed the idea of Limbo for the children, which is a state of the afterlife akin to that of the Old Testament righteous saints before they went to heaven—a state of natural bliss that is not heaven, hell, or purgatory (see Luke 16:19-31).

Traditionally, the Magisterium explicitly defended the doctrine of Limbo as a legitimate theological opinion. In his 1794 papal bull Auctorem Fidei, Pope Pius VI called the rejection of Limbo by the Jansenists “false, rash, and injurious to Catholic schools.”

Although the Magisterium has never rejected Limbo as an acceptable and legitimate teaching, it has more recently proposed another way to approach the topic of unbaptized infants. For example, the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that “the Church can only entrust them to the mercy of God,” and then gives two reasons as to why we can “hope that there is a way of salvation” for these children: 1) God desires all men to be saved, and 2) Jesus was tender toward children (CCC 1261).

The bottom line is that the Church doesn’t know with certainty whether children who die without baptism receive the Beatific Vision or exist in Limbo. The simple reason for such agnosticism is that it’s not revealed to us. This testifies to the humility of the Church and her concern for preaching only what Christ has revealed. In the end, however, we do have reason to hope for the salvation of unbaptized infants. And that’s something that we can take comfort in.

  [1] See Catechism of the Catholic Church, par. 1260. [2] See Ibid.

The Church has traditionally taught that the desire for baptism, whether explicit or implicit, saves.[1] Yet, someone may ask, “If that person doesn’t receive the sacrament of baptism, is that person ‘fully Catholic’”?

If by “fully Catholic” one means “getting to heaven,” then the answer is yes. However, if by “fully Catholic” one means receiving the character/seal of baptism, then the answer is no. The Catechism teaches that the desire for Baptism “brings about the fruits of Baptism,” but “without being a sacrament” (CCC 1258). Since the character is only communicated through the sacrament (CCC 1121), it follows that the desire for Baptism does not communicate the sacramental character or seal.

What’s the significance of this? For this life, it simply means that the person wouldn’t enjoy the “rights within the Church” to participate in aspects of the life of the Church, such as the sacraments (CCC 1269). The character/seal is ordered to making the baptized “share in Christ’s priesthood” and constituting them as “a member of the Church according to different states and functions” (CCC 1121). Or, as Aquinas puts it, it gives a person the right “to do or receive something pertaining to the worship of the priesthood of Christ.”[2]

Concerning the afterlife, this lack of the character might not have any significance at all. The Church only definitively teaches that the seal remains at least until death.^[3] Even if the character does remain in heaven, which is the general theological opinion,[4] the only implication would be that the souls that didn’t have it would experience beatitude in a lesser degree than those that did have it. But that’s not a problem because every soul will experience different degrees of beatitude in heaven depending on their state of charity.

Regardless of whether the seal remains, the important thing is that the baptism of desire does indeed save. And in that sense every soul in heaven is “fully Catholic.”   [1] For the Church’s teaching on the explicit desire for Baptism, see The Council of Trent, Canons on the Sacraments in General, Can. 4; Decree on Justification, Chap.4; Catechism of the Catholic Church, par. 1259; Cf. Aquinas, Summa theologiae [ST] III, q. 66, aa. 11-12; q. 68, a. 2. For the Church’s teaching on the implicit desire for Baptism, see Catechism of the Catholic Church, par. 1260. [2] Aquinas, ST III, q. 63, a. 6, ad 3. ^[3] See Ludwig Ott, Fundamentals of Catholic Dogma (St. Louis, MO: B. Herder Book Company, 1957), 335. [4] See Ibid.

Are you baptized in the Holy Ghost? This is a question that you’ll often get if you ever hang around Charismatic Christians—whether Protestant or Catholic. What they usually mean is, “Have you experienced the presence of the Holy Spirit in a powerful way?” Often they think a sign of this “baptism” is the outward manifestation of certain spiritual gifts, like speaking in tongues.

But for Catholics, the language of “being baptized in the Holy Spirit” need not be reduced to a subjective experience that we may have of Him or the ability to speak in strange tongues. It arguably refers to a sacrament: namely, the Sacrament of Confirmation.

In Acts 1:4-5, Jesus instructs the apostles not to leave Jerusalem until they receive the promise of the Father to be “baptized with the Holy Spirit,” which, according to Peter in Acts 11:15-16, is a reference to the descent of the Spirit on the day of Pentecost in Acts 2.

Now, the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches in paragraph 1288 that the Sacrament of Confirmation “in a certain way perpetuates the grace of Pentecost in the Church.” This is confirmed in Acts 8 when Peter and John lay hands on the newly baptized Christians in Samaria and give them a special outpouring of the Holy Spirit similar to that of the Christians in Acts 2 on the day of Pentecost.

If Pentecost was the event where the early Christians received their “baptism” of the Holy Spirit, and the laying on of hands in Confirmation perpetuates the graces of Pentecost, then it follows that to be confirmed is to be “baptized in the Holy Spirit” insofar as by means of the sacrament we receive the same outpouring of the Spirit that allows us courageously to spread and defend the faith in word and deed.

And just because some confirmed Christians might not have the gift of tongues, doesn’t mean they haven’t been “baptized in the Holy Spirit,” since, according to Paul in 1 Cor. 12:30, not all members of Christ’s Body have this gift.

So, to the question, “Have you been baptized in the Holy Ghost?” Christians who’ve been validly confirmed can say with some charismatic flair, “Amen, brotha!”

The Church has always emphasized prayer as one of the spiritual practices that we should undertake during the season of Lent. So, it’s worth our while reflecting a bit on it. And we can let St. Thomas Aquinas be our guide. Aquinas has many things to say about prayer.[1] But here are three practical things that are worth highlighting. First, our prayer shouldn’t only be mental. We should practice vocal prayer as well.[2] Our verbal words keep the mind focused on the meaning of the prayers, which in turn increases our affection for God. Moreover, using verbal words in prayer serves God with all that God has given us, both mind and body. Second, don’t stress over whether you’ve been fully attentive in your prayer. It’s true that Aquinas says continued attention is necessary in order that the end of prayer—i.e., union with God—be better attained. But, as Aquinas points out, our lack of being fully attentive in prayer doesn’t mean our prayer isn’t fruitful.[3] The original intention with which one sets about praying is sufficient, both with regard to the prayer’s merit and the effect of our request. Third, the duration of prayers needs to be guided by reason.[4] Although prayer should be continual with regard to the desire of charity, which Aquinas identifies as prayer’s cause, prayer considered in itself, which is understood as the actual saying of prayers, need not be continual. Aquinas teaches that our prayers need to be commensurate with their end, which is to arouse fervor of the interior desire for God. This being the case, Aquinas counsels that if our prayer “exceeds this measure, so that it cannot be continued any longer without causing weariness,” we should stop.[5] For Aquinas, our attention doesn’t have to be forced if we’re unable to keep it up. So, there’s no need to fret over whether your prayer was effective because you got distracted or weren’t fully attentive to the words. Let’s try to keep these practical points in mind from the Angelic Doctor so that our Lenten observance of prayer can bear the fruit that our Lord wants it to bear.

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[1] See Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae II-II, q. 83. [2] See ST II-II, q. 83, a. 12, resp. [3] See ST II-II, q. 83, a. 13, resp. [4] See ST II-II, q. 83, a. 13, resp. [5] ST II-II, q. 83, a. 14, resp.

In a previous musing, I stated that the quest for happiness is the quest to discover the goods that really perfect us as human beings and posed the question, ‘What are those goods?’ The short answer to this question is the ends to which nature directs our innate human powers—the things that our human powers are made for. For example, the powers of our animality are by nature ordained to acquire those things that secure our bodily wellbeing—food, drink, shelter, clothing, etc. (material goods), and when we acquire such things, they bring about a real kind of happiness. The powers of our soul are by nature directed to acquiring that which constitutes our spiritual wellbeing. Our intellect is made to know truth. Truth, therefore, is a good the possession of which constitutes a real kind of happiness. Willing the good for others and for ourselves is in itself a good, and thus perfective of our nature, since the pursuit of the good is the very purpose of our will. From this purpose of the will follows the ordination of our nature to love, friendship, and social living (Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae I-II, q. 4, a. 8.) The goods mentioned above all give legitimate or real happiness. But the happiness that these goods give can never be complete or perfect, at least for some when found in a limited way (e.g., truth). The reason is because they are goods that in principle will leave us desiring more. As Thomas Aquinas teaches, man can’t be perfectly happy “so long as something remains for him to desire and seek” (ST I-II, q. 3, a. 8, resp.). Food and drink, obviously, never completely satisfy. Even material goods that we acquire for shelter and comfort (e.g., house, car, clothing, etc.) do not completely satisfy. First, there is always something bigger and better that we desire. Second, such goods are only sought for the sake of doing other things that belong to the higher part of our human nature: pursuing education, succeeding at our jobs, supporting self and family, pursuing friendships and relationships, etc. Also, there is always the looming threat of having such goods taken away from us (e.g., theft, natural disaster, financial hardship, death, etc.). Given that such goods cannot completely or perfectly satisfy, the question becomes, “Is there a good the possession of which would never leave us seeking more—a good that does not leave something remaining to be desired or sought?” It would have to be a good such that there is no good greater than it. No such good can be a creaturely good because all creaturely goods are limited. For whatever good we consider pursuing, there will always be a good higher or better than it to pursue. The only good that fits the bill is infinite good, which is God. Therefore, in the words of Aquinas, “God alone constitutes man’s happiness” (ST I-II, q. 2, a. 8, resp.). St. Augustine was right: “Our hearts are restless [O Lord] until they rest thee.” (Augustine, Confessions, I.1.1)