I don’t know if it is a French thing, an existentialist thing, or a French existentialist thing. Regardless, there’s something going on in the lives of two 1900s Parisian Jewish philosophers, Henri Bergson and Simone Weil, besides their influence by Catholic philosophy and their later influence on Catholic philosophers.
Both of these figures, despite their acknowledged inclination toward Catholicism and love of Jesus Christ, explicitly refused baptism before their death. What is more striking was the similar reason both of them refused, which could ironically be viewed as a “Christian reason” for doing so if there ever was one. Both Bergson’s and Weil’s refusal of baptism was motivated by a desire to stand in solidarity with the marginalized. For Bergson, it was his fellow Jewish people and the ostracized; for Weil, it was for all those outside the visible Church.
We can sympathize with the desire. It echoes the solidarity that Christ shares with the hungry, thirsty, and naked of the parable of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25. It also parallels the darkness St. Thérèse of Lisieux describes toward the end of her life, akin to that of those without faith. Finally, St. Teresa of Calcutta describes a similar darkness for much of her private life, which she considered the means by which God allowed her to empathize with the poor.
When looked at in this way, it appears a profoundly beautiful sacrifice on the part of Bergson and Weil. These two, who certainly thought deeply and understood sacramental theology enough to know the weight of their decision, wanted to stand as witnesses in a unique way that still connected them to the those they loved and, importantly, those Christ loves as well.
But this orientation fails to recognize an important truth about the nature of baptism that goes even beyond the personal salvation of the one baptized. This truth would have actually created an even more profound, more Christlike witness in the decisions of Bergson and Weil and would have fulfilled the deeply beautiful and charitable desires in each.
Though more attention on the importance of baptism is placed on our salvation, with Scripture to emphasize this point (1 Pet. 3:21), this reality of baptism is actually downstream from one that causes our salvation. We can hope in baptism saving us because our baptism is an entrance into the body of Christ—his death and resurrection (Rom. 6:3-4). What this means is that baptism saves because it unites us to Christ’s body, and it is Christ’s body that rose from the dead and ascends into heaven. If Christian salvation is both our rising from the dead and our going to heaven, it only is because it is united to Christ’s body.
As St. Paul says, that same “body,” he also considers to be “the Church” (Col. 1:18, 24). This is what makes union with the Church actually part of the gospel, and which church such an important question.
However, besides the issue of personal salvation, there is also the issue of solidarity, which is what motivated the decisions of Bergson and Weil.
As mentioned, Christ already makes clear his own solidarity with those who have been rejected in Matthew 25. Although this is presented in terms of a moral command—by feeding the poor, we feed Christ—the ontological reality is what gives the moral command weight. These are known as the corporal works of mercy in the Catholic tradition, as they serve the bodily needs of the poor, and they serve the body of Christ as a whole.
If it is true that our personal salvation is brought about through union with the body of Christ, which baptism facilitates because it enters us into body of Christ, then it is worth considering that that same body died for all (2 Cor. 5:15). This allows for Paul to tell Christians “to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice” because it is being done in union with the sacrifice of Christ (see Rom. 12:1). The incarnation of Christ was the ultimate act of solidarity with human nature, so his sacrifice was also in union with human nature. Baptism is actually the thing that allows us to make our lives an act of sacrificial love, in union with Christ, in solidarity with anyone and everyone. Like any relationship, though, there must be a desire to receive that love as well for true union to occur.
Even if one argues that only those who cooperate with grace receive the saving grace of baptism, which is basically a summary of the Catholic Church’s teaching on baptism of desire, then we still stand in solidarity with those outside the visible bonds of the Church with whom it is possible to have solidarity anyway. We cannot unite ourselves with another in charity if we are disconnected with the Source of charity. If I have completely rejected God, I have no chance of true union with another, whether that person is united with Christ in baptism or not.
Just as much of apologetics and evangelization is clarifying what Christianity actually does not teach, so too must it also supplement the incomplete truths that limit or distort the fuller, abundant picture that God wants to present through Jesus Christ and his Church.
Yes, it is true that Christ’s sacrifice on the cross saves us, and the sacraments are the extension of that sacrifice to us, with baptism being our entrance into that great mystery. Baptism, too, though the means for our personal, individual salvation by our union with Christ in his death and resurrection, is also the means by which we unite to every other member in the body of Christ. We can choose to strengthen that union through our participation in the other sacraments as well as through our actions of charity.
Baptism, then, cannot be a stumbling block to union with those who need God’s love. It is the vehicle.