Sermon XVI. On the Mystical Sense of the Number Seven

"Thy name is as oil poured out."

What, my brethren, is the mystical significance of the number seven occurring in the account of the resuscitation¹ of the child by Eliseus? I do not believe that any of you is so simple as to suppose it to be without some special design and due, as it were, to chance, that the gaping was sevenfold. Nor do I consider that it was without meaning that the Prophet, lying upon the corpse, contracted himself to the dimensions of the child's body, "and put his mouth upon his mouth, and his eyes upon his eyes, and his hands upon his hands." It is the Holy Ghost Who caused all these things to be so done and recorded, for the enlightenment, no doubt, of those human spirits of ours, which are led astray by the treacherous companionship of a corruptible body, and instructed in folly by the foolish wisdom of this world. "For the corruptible body," so we read in Wisdom, "is a load upon the soul, and the earthly habitation presseth down the mind that museth upon many things." Consequently, no one ought to be surprised or impatient if I appear to examine curiously these storehouses of the Holy Spirit, so to call such mysterious narratives, since I know that "man's life is such, and the life of my spirit in such things as these." Yet I want to tell those who are gifted with a quick intelligence, and who are longing for the end of every sermon almost before they have heard the beginning, that I am a debtor to the dull, also, and indeed to them especially. My purpose is not so much to comment on words as to move and enkindle hearts. * I have to draw the spiritual water from the well and to give it to you to drink, which cannot be done by gliding quickly through my subject, but by careful discussion and frequent exhortation. However, the inquiry into the mystical meanings of my present text has detained us longer than even I had anticipated. I was under the impression, I confess, that one discourse would suffice for this, that we could pass quickly through this dark and pathless forest of allegories, and perhaps in one day's journey reach the open plain of moral instructions. But it has happened quite otherwise. Two days have we been wandering in the wood and the exit is still a long way off. The eye, contemplating a landscape from afar, takes in at a glance the tops of the trees and the peaks of the mountains. But the wide extent of the low-lying valleys and the dense tangles of brushwood thickets baffle its penetration. How, for example, could I have foreseen the miracle of Eliseus, until, whilst treating of the vocation of the Gentiles, and the rejection of the Jews, it suddenly and unexpectedly crossed my vision? And now that we have stumbled upon it, let us be content to dwell a little on the thoughts it suggests, which will lead us back again to the considerations we are intermitting. For in these thoughts, also, we shall find food for our souls. In the same manner, huntsmen and their hounds desist occasionally from the pursuit of the quarry they had first started, in order to chase another that springs up in their path.

My brethren, I find solid ground for confidence in the thought that this great Prophet, namely, Christ, "a Man mighty in word and work," descending from the high mountain of heaven, deigned to visit me, "whereas I am but dust and ashes," to compassionate me as I lay in death, to bend over my prostrate form, to contract² and reduce Himself to my diminutive stature, to illumine my blindness with the very light of His Eyes, to cure my dumbness with the kiss of His Mouth, and to strengthen my feeble hands by the touch of His own. I find a sweet consolation in pondering upon these things. They replenish my soul with delight; they enrich my spirit with an abundance of grace; and cause all my bones to break out into praise of my Divine Benefactor. Such a restoration Christ wrought once for all in favour of the whole human race. But each one of us experiences daily in himself a rehearsal of it, when, namely, the light of understanding is imparted to the heart, the word of edification to the mouth, and to the hand the work of justice. For it is He who gives us to think what is true, to speak it to advantage, and to reduce it to practice in our lives. Herein we have a cord of triple strand, difficult to break, for delivering souls out of the devil's prison, and drawing them after us up into heaven. And the cord I speak of consists in this, that we conceive right sentiments, express them worthily, and prove the sincerity of our faith by conforming our lives to its teaching. With His own Eyes He has touched mine, adorning with the brilliant luminaries of faith and understanding the forehead, so to speak, of the interior man. He has joined His Mouth to mine, impressing the kiss of peace on the lips of the dead; for when we were still sinners, dead to justice, He reconciled us to God. He applied His Mouth to mine, again breathing into my face the breath of life, but of a more holy life than the first. By the first He formed me "into a living soul," by the second He reformed me into a quickening spirit. He laid His Hands on mine, by giving me the example of good works, the pattern of obedience. Or certainly in that He "put forth His Hands to strong things," in order to "teach my hands to fight and my fingers to war."

"And the child gaped seven times." For the manifestation of the glory of the miracle, it was enough that he should gape once. The multiplicity therefore, and the reiteration until the mystical number seven was reached, point to a mystery. If you now contemplate the huge body of the whole human race, at first, indeed, you behold it altogether devoid of animation, like the corpse of the child. But when the universal Church has been restored to life by contact with the Prophet Who lay upon her, you will see her opening wide her mouth, gaping, as it were, seven times. That is to say, "seven times a day" she is accustomed to give praise to God. If you consider yourselves you may know by this that you are living a spiritual life and fulfilling the mystical number, if you subject the fivefold source of sensation to the twofold law of charity, and, according to the Apostle, "yield your members to serve justice, unto sanctification," as before you yielded them "to serve iniquity unto iniquity." Or, otherwise, if you dedicate the same five senses to the work of advancing the salvation of your neighbour, and complete the number seven by adding two exercises relating to God, viz., the praise of His justice and the praise of His mercy.

I have also to speak of seven other "gapings." I mean seven experimental tests, which are absolutely necessary, if we desire to be assured that our souls have recovered true life and health. Four of these tests regard the sense of compunction; the rest are concerned with the voice of confession. If you have life, and voice, and feeling, you have also in yourselves an experience of the seven. You may be certain that your sensibility has been perfectly restored, if you notice that your conscience is pained with a fourfold compunction, comprising a twofold shame and a twofold fear. Added to these four, the three modes of confession, of which I intend to speak later on, make up the mystical sevenfold and give us an assurance of our restoration to life. Does not holy Jeremias, in his Lamentations, observe this number four which, as I have said, belongs to compunction? Do you, then, in your own lamentations, follow the example set by the Prophet. Think of God as your Creator, think of Him as your Benefactor, think of Him as your Father, think of Him as your Lord. In all these relations, you stand guilty before Him. Lament your offences against Him in regard to each. Let fear be awakened at the thought of the Creator and the Lord; shame when you call to mind the offended Benefactor and Father. A father surely, for the reason that he is a father, cannot inspire fear. It is peculiar to a father "to compassionate always and to spare." And if he strikes, it is not with the staff of punishment but with the rod of correction. Moreover, he soothes the pain his stroke has produced. Listen to a father's voice, "I will strike and I will heal." In a father, therefore, there is nothing to be afraid of, who, although sometimes administering chastisement as a remedy, can never inflict pain in vengeance. Yet, if the thought of having sinned against my Father in heaven does not inspire me with terror, it ought certainly to fill me with confusion. Freely did He beget me by the word of truth, and not under necessitating impulse, very differently from the father of my flesh. And for one so begotten He spared not even His only Necessarily-Begotten. Thus has He indeed shown Himself a Father to me, but, alas! I, in my turn, have not behaved as a son towards Him. A son so evil of a Father so good, how shall I dare to lift up my eyes to His Face? I am ashamed of having by my deeds dishonoured my ancestry. The thought that I have proved myself a degenerate son of a Father so noble overwhelms me with confusion. Let my eyes become as fountains of water! Let confusion cover my countenance! Let the blush of shame mantle my face and as a cloud overcast it! Let "my life be wasted with grief, and my years with sighs!" Alas! alas! what have I gained by those actions of which I am now so much ashamed? If I have "sown in the flesh of the flesh also shall I reap," but only "corruption." If I have sown in the world "the world passeth away and the concupiscence thereof." What! Have I been so lost to shame, so unhappy, so insane, as to prefer things transient, vain, and next to nothing, "the end whereof is death," to the love and honour of my Eternal Father? I am confounded, I am overwhelmed at hearing the reproach, "If I be a Father where is My honour?"

But quite apart from the claims He has on me as my Father, He has also loaded me with His benefits. He multiplies His witnesses against me in the food He provides for my body, in the prolongation of my days, and, above all, in the Blood of His Beloved Son, Which "crieth from the earth" in my behalf, to say nothing of innumerable other favours. I blush for my ingratitude. And lest anything should be wanting to my confusion, I stand convicted of rendering evil for good, and hatred for love. Yet I have as little to fear from my Benefactor as from my Father. He is the true Benefactor, "Who giveth to all men abundantly, and upbraideth not." He does not upbraid me on account of His gifts, for the reason that they are really gifts. The benefits of God are given gratis, not sold at a price, and, as the Apostle tells us, His "gifts are without repentance." But in proportion to my admiration for the divine generosity is the shame I am forced to feel for my own unworthiness. Be confounded, O my soul, be confounded and saddened! For, although it belongs not to a Benefactor to reproach or upbraid, it ill beseems us to be unmindful or ungrateful. Yet, woe is me! even now, "what shall I render to the Lord for all the things that He hath rendered to me?"

But should shame be slothful and perform its work imperfectly, let fear be called to its assistance. Let fear be aroused in order to arouse the conscience. Turn away your attention a little, my brethren, from the tender names of Father and Benefactor, and direct it to other titles more severe. For of the Same Who is called "the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation," we also read, "The Lord is the God to Whom revenge belongeth," "God is a just Judge," "Who is terrible in His counsels over the sons of men," and "I am the Lord thy God, mighty and jealous." For you He is a Father and a Benefactor; He is Lord and Creator for Himself. Hence the Scripture says, "He hath made all things for Himself." Do you, then, imagine that He Who defends and preserves to us what is ours, will not, sooner or later, show a like zeal for His own? Do you suppose He will not require the honour of His principality? And it is for this reason that "the wicked hath provoked God. For he hath said in his heart, He will not require it." And what is it to say in one's heart, "He will not require," except not to fear His requisition? But He will require, even to the "last farthing." He will require, "and repay them abundantly that act proudly." He will require service from those whom He has redeemed, honour and glory from the creatures of His Hand.

True, the Father overlooks, the Benefactor pardons; but not so the Lord and the Creator. He Who as Father spares His child, will not as Creator spare His creature, will not as Lord have compassion on a wicked servant. Think, my brethren, what a dreadful, what a horrible thing it is to have despised your Maker and the Creator of all, to have offended the Lord of Majesty! Fear is inspired by majesty, and fear is inspired by lordship, but especially by the Divine Majesty and the Divine Lordship. And if the penalty of death is imposed by human laws upon those who offend against human majesty, what shall be the fate of such as despise the Divine Omnipotence? "He toucheth the mountains and they smoke," and does a little sack of vile dust, which may be scattered in a moment by a single breath beyond the possibility of recall, does such a thing dare to provoke so tremendous a Majesty? He, my brethren, He indeed ought to fill us with dread, "Who, after He hath killed hath power to cast into hell." Ah, it is hell that makes me afraid. I fear the wrathful Countenance of the Judge, which strikes terror even into the angelic spirits. I tremble when I call to mind the anger of the Omnipotent, and the face of His fury, and the crashing of a universe tottering to destruction, and the conflagration of the elements, and the mighty tempest, and the voice of the Archangel, and "the sharp word" of final reprobation. Horror overpowers me at the thought of the fangs of the infernal beast, of the bottomless abyss below, of the "lions roaring, ready for their prey." I shudder with affright whenever I think of the gnawing worm that "dieth not," of the cataracts of fire, of the smoke, of the black enveloping vapours, of the sulphur, of the "storm of winds," and of the "exterior darkness." "Who will give water to my head, and a fountain of tears to my eyes," that by weeping over my sins now I may prevent eternal weeping in the future, and escape the gnashing of teeth and the cruel fetters for hands and feet, and the oppressive weight of chains, galling, cramping, burning, but not consuming? Woe, woe is me, O my mother! Oh, why didst thou bring me forth, to be a child of sorrow and bitterness, of eternal wrath, of everlasting lamentation? Oh, why didst thou take upon thy knees and suckle at thy breast one that is but born to be fuel for the fire, destined for the burning?

He that is thus affected, my brethren, has without doubt recovered his sense of feeling; and in this twofold fear, viz., of God as Creator and as Lord, added to the previously mentioned twofold shame of Him as Father and as Benefactor, he has four of the seven "gapirvgs." The three which remain, he will find in the voice of confession, so that it shall no longer be said of him that "there is neither voice nor feeling." If yet that voice of confession proceeds from a simple, humble, and trustful heart. Therefore, let him confess humbly, sincerely, and trustfully whatever troubles his conscience, and so he will have done what is required of him in this matter. There are some "who are glad when they have done evil, and rejoice in most wicked things." It is of such Isaias speaks where he says, "They have proclaimed abroad their sin as Sodom." But these, as being worldlings, I exclude from further consideration in my present discourse, for what have we to do with those "who are without"?

Yet even amongst persons who wear the religious habit and have made the monastic vows, I have occasionally heard some recounting and shamelessly boasting of the sins of their past. They proudly talk, for instance, of the great courage they gave evidence of in the duels which they fought whilst living in the world; or of their skill in verbal disputations, or of other such exploits, honourable according to the vanity of the world, but hurtful, pernicious, ruinous to the interests of the soul. Such language betrays a worldly spirit. The humble habit of religion worn by these people, instead of being a sign that they have put on the new man of sanctity, is nothing but a cloak for the old man of sin. Others make mention of the same things as if in sorrow and penitence. But since they aim at self-glorification in their intention, they only deceive themselves, whilst their guilt remains. For "God is not mocked." They have not put off the old man, but they hide him under the new. The old leaven is neither given up nor cast forth by such a confession as this, but rather strengthened, according to the words: "Because I was silent, my bones grew old, whilst I cried out all the day long." I am ashamed to speak of the impudence of some who are brazen enough to boast exultantly of what ought to be expiated with tears of compunction, how, even after they were clothed in the sacred livery, they cleverly overreached such a brother; how they outwitted another; how they retaliated on such as injured them by word or deed. That is to say, they make it matter for boasting to have requited evil with evil, reproach with reproach!

There is still another kind of confession which is all the more dangerous in proportion as the vanity concealed in it is the more subtle and difficult to detect. I allude to that in which we have the boldness to reveal our crimes and abominations, not because we are humble, but because we desire to appear so. But to seek the praise of humility is not the virtue, but rather the subversion of humility. The really humble man is anxious not to be acclaimed for his humility, but to be reputed as vile. He rejoices in contempt, and glories in nothing but in his contempt of praise. What, my brethren, can be more perverse, what more unworthy than that confession of sin, the very guardian of humility, should be pressed into the service of pride, and that you should wish to be reputed saints on account of that precisely which makes you to appear sinners? This is surely a most extraordinary manner of boasting, as if one could not otherwise acquire a reputation for sanctity than by exhibiting himself as a criminal! But as it has only the appearance, not the reality of humility, far from obtaining pardon, it even provokes the divine anger. Did it avail Saul anything to acknowledge his sin, when reproved by Samuel? Doubtless, that confession must have been itself sinful, seeing that it did not merit the forgiveness of sin. For when did the Master of humility, Whose nature inclines Him to grant His grace to the humble, ever reject an humble confession? No, He could not but be appeased, if only the humble sentiments which sounded on the lips were found also to be entertained in the heart. This is the reason why I have said confession must be humble.

But it must also be simple. If evil has been really committed do not be at pains to justify the intention as you may feel tempted to do, inasmuch as this is not visible to the human eye. Do not try to palliate your fault, if you know it to be serious. Neither should you attempt to excuse it on the plea of persuasion by others, since no one can be compelled to do wrong against his will. To justify the intention is rather self-defence than self-accusation, and calls down, instead of appeasing, the anger of heaven. To extenuate one's guilt shows a want of gratitude, because by striving to lessen your culpability, you detract from the glory of the divine mercy which pardons you. Besides, favours are conferred the less willingly, accordingly as they are observed to be the less thankfully received, as being considered by the recipient the less necessary to him. Consequently, he who depreciates the divine bounty, by endeavouring with words to extenuate his guilt, forfeits thereby the divine forgiveness. Let the example of the first man deter you from transferring to others the responsibility of your transgression. Adam did not deny his fault, yet he did not obtain pardon, and the reason doubtless was because he made mention also of the sin of his wife. That is a familiar way of excusing oneself, namely, when accused yourselves to accuse another. But let holy David tell you how not merely unprofitable, but even pernicious it is to wish to excuse oneself by accusing one's neighbour. "Evil words" he calls "excuses in sins." And he begs and entreats the Lord not to "incline his heart" to them. Nor without reason. For he who excuses his guilt sins against his own soul, rejects the medicine of pardon, and thus with his own mouth deprives himself of spiritual life. What can be more malicious than to take up arms in this way against one's own salvation, and to pierce oneself, so to speak, with one's own sword? "He that is evil to himself, to whom will he be good?"

It is also required that confession should be trustful. This is necessary in order that it may be made in hope, with full confidence of forgiveness, lest otherwise, instead of being justified, you condemn yourselves with your own lips. Judas, who betrayed Our Lord, and Cain, who slew his brother, both confessed, but both without confidence. "I have sinned," said the former, "in betraying innocent blood." "My iniquity," exclaimed the latter, "is greater than that I may deserve pardon." Truthful confessions both, but unavailing, because untrustful. These three qualities of a good confession, added to the four properties of acceptable compunction, considered just now, will make up the mystical seven.

Now, when you feel such compunction and have so confessed, and consequently are assured of the possession of life, you will also, as I think, admit as certain that the name Jesus is no empty title in Him Who has both the will and the power to work such wonders in you; and that it has not been in vain He Himself followed the staff which He sent on before. His coming has not been in vain, because He came not empty. How, indeed, could He be empty in Whom dwelt the fulness of the Divinity? For to Him the Spirit has not been given in measure. Moreover, it is written that He came in the "fulness of time" to indicate to us that He came not empty. Assuredly He was full Whom the Father "hath anointed with the oil of gladness above His fellows." And He was anointed that He might Himself anoint us. AH who have deserved to receive of His fulness, have been anointed by Him. Therefore He says, ' The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because the Lord hath anointed Me. He hath sent Me to preach to the meek, to heal the contrite of heart, and to preach a release to the captives, and deliverance to them that are shut up, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord."He came, as you have just heard, to anoint our sores and to soothe our sorrows. Therefore did He come anointed. Therefore did He come" sweet i. t and mild, and plenteous in mercy to all that call upon Him "He knew He was descending to an afflicted race and assumed the character most necessary for their relief And as there were many infirmities, like a physician of wisdom and foresight, He came provided with many remedies. He brought with Him the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit ot counsel and fortitude, the Spirit of knowledge and piety, and the Spirit of the fear of the Lord

You see, my brethren, what a number of phials full of precious ointments this heavenly Physician prepared for healing the wounds of that poor man who fell amongst robbers."They are seven in number, designed perhaps for the excitation of the above-mentioned seven" gapings."For the Spirit of life dwelt in these phials Out of them, certainly, He poured oil upon my wounds. He also poured wine, but less wine than oil That is to say, He so accommodated His treatment to my infirmities, that mercy should be exalted over justice, just as the oil floats above wine when poured into the same vessel. He brought five vessels of oil as against only two of wine. For it is only fear and fortitude that wine can be understood to symbolise The other five virtues, namely, wisdom, understanding, counsel, knowledge, and piety, suggest the idea of oil by the sweetness of their flavour In the Spirit of fortitude," like a mighty man that hath been surfeited with wine,"He descended into hell, broke in pieces the gates of brass, and burst the bars of iron In the same Spirit He bound" the strong man, and delivered human souls from the yoke of Satan But He descended also in the Spirit of fear, not of fear felt by Himself, but of fear to be struck into others.

O Wisdom, powerfully sweet and sweetly powerful! With what healing art in wine and oil dost thou restore the health of my soul! Surely thou "reachest from end to end mightly and disposest all things sweetly," driving far off the enemy and taking care of the weak » ' Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed." I will sing and praise Thy name, and will say, "Thy name is as oil poured out." Not as wine poured out, for wine signifies power and fear, and O Lord, "enter not into judgment with Thy servant"; but as oil, since Thou dost "crown me with mercy and compassion." Yes as oil, which, floating above all liquids, into which it is poured, by this property beautifully typifies the name which is above all names." O name, exceeding sweet exceeding savoury! O name, glorious beyond all' chosen out of all, sublime and exalted above all for ever! This is truly the oil that makes "the face of man cheerful," that "fattens the head "of him who fasts, so that he does not feel the oil of the sinner. This is the "new name which the Mouth of the Lord hath named," which was even "called by the angel before He was conceived in the womb." Not alone the Jew, but "whosoever shall call upon this name shall be saved," for to this purpose has it been poured out. This the Father gave to His Son, the Bridegroom of the Church, Our Lord Jesus Christ, Who is over all things, God blessed for ever. Amen.

Footnotes

1. "And he (Eliseus) went up and lay upon the child; and he put his mouth upon his mouth, and his eyes upon his eyes, and his hands upon his hands; and he bowed himself upon him... and the child gaped seven times and opened his eyes" (4 Kings iv. 34. 35). ↩

2. The Saint refers, of course, to that contraction whereby the Divine Immensity reduced Itself to the littleness of our nature when Christ "Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God, emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant." St. Augustine also sees in the miracle of Eliseus a type and foreshadowing of the Incarnation. According to him, the Prophet's staff, sent on ahead by the servant Giezi, and which proved ineffectual to raise the child, symbolised the rod of Moses, or the Law, incapable of restoring fallen man from the death of sin to the life of grace. — (Translator.) ↩