[5/9] Novena of Grace: "Will"

By Ignasi Flores

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lose to the end of the Spiritual Exercises, St Ignatius of Loyola offers a surprising and profound warning: “We ought not to speak so lengthily and emphatically about grace that we generate a poison harmful to freedom of the will” (SE 369). Poison? The word jumps out.

Ponzoña in Spanish first appears in reference to sin (SE 58), describing how the human will can be corrupted and weakened. But we come across it again—this time in a radically different context. Now it is not sin but grace that is at risk of becoming a veneno—another word that means not only poison but venom. Grace, the very lifeblood of the Christian journey, can become harmful if misunderstood—if presented in such a way that it renders the will passive or irrelevant.

Why does St Ignatius include such a strong caution here?

We must remember the spiritual and theological battlefield of his time. The Reformation was raging. In 1525, just around the time St Ignatius was beginning to compose his Spiritual Exercises, Martin Luther published De Servo Arbitrio—On the Bondage of the Will. Luther claimed that human beings were incapable of choosing the good without divine intervention. The will, he argued, was enslaved. Only God could act; the soul was entirely passive.

Erasmus of Rotterdam in his earlier work De Libero Arbitrio—On Free Will—was defending human cooperation with grace and the very dignity of human choices.

St Ignatius stepped into this controversy not with treatises, but with the Spiritual Exercises—a method of forming the will, of training it to desire and choose what God desires.

At the very heart of his spiritual method is a conviction: the human will matters. God does not bypass the will (la voluntad in Spanish is used 21 times in the Spiritual Exercises and twice within the Suscipe). He heals it, elevates it, and invites it into a sacred cooperation. The Spiritual Exercises are a school of the will, designed to train the retreatant to become a chooser—one who sees, desires, and freely elects what leads to God’s greater glory.

In SE 369, St Ignatius does not reject grace—on the contrary, his methods of prayer are saturated with it. St Paul writes, "where sin abounded, grace abounded much more" (Rom 5:20). Where there is “a failing to hit the mark” (Thayer’s Greek Lexicon definition of “sin”), there is a superabundance (huperperisseuó) of grace.

But he warns against preaching a "grace overdose" that poisons rather than cures. It could dangerously lead to other complications. It is a grace without a “yes," cheap grace (from Dietrich Bonhoeffer).

When St Ignatius was wounded at the Battle of Pamplona, he did not immediately convert. Grace began to stir during his long convalescence, but it required his free cooperation. At first, he had no choice but to read the Life of Christ and the lives of the saints—these were the only books available to him. Yet through them, something stirred. He famously reflected, “If St Dominic or St Francis could do this, why not I?” This was not grace overwhelming his will, but grace awakening his freedom. His conversion was not sudden or magical; it was the gradual fruit of grace working through his growing desire and free response.

Like medicine, grace must be properly administered. Its power lies not just in its content but in its proportion and application. There is also now what is called "consolation without proportionate cause." Misused, even the greatest remedy can become toxic. St Ignatius, as a careful spiritual physician, insists that grace must never be separated from freedom. It does not replace human effort; it elevates it. It does not override the will; it awakens and draws it.

St Ignatius belongs to the Catholic tradition of synergism: the belief that salvation is the fruit of divine initiative and human cooperation. Qui creavit te sine te, non salvabit te sine te, ‘God who created you without you, will not save you without you’ (St Augustine, Sermo 169, Caput 13, in Patrologia Latina, vol 38, col. 923).

This dynamic is woven throughout the Spiritual Exercises. From the meditations on sin to the Call of the King, from the Two Standards to the Election, the retreatant is continually being invited to use freedom well—to choose what is more, what is deeper, what is of God—not under compulsion, but in joy.

St Ignatius even notes how the apostles themselves moved gradually toward this total freedom (SE 275). He observes that Peter and Andrew appear to be called in three distinct moments: first, to some knowledge of Christ (Jn 1:35–42); second, to a partial following—still with the intention to return to their livelihood (Lk 5:1–11); and finally, to a definitive, irrevocable surrender (Mt 4:18–22; Mk 1:16–18).

When they “brought their boats to shore,” it was not a reckless abandonment of their work, but a deliberate, ordered act. It reflected not disdain for their possessions, but readiness to let go—not because these things were bad, but because something better had been freely chosen.

This is the essence of Ignatian "indifference": the inner freedom to release even good things in pursuit of God’s will. Later, in John 21, we see the disciples return to fishing after the resurrection. This may suggest that what we surrender to God is never lost, but can be transformed and used anew. What is laid down in love may be taken up again, with new meaning and mission.

And Yet, the Final Paradox

And then—just when the retreatant has grown into spiritual maturity, when the will has been strengthened, clarified, and aligned—St Ignatius invites one final act: surrender.

“Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will…”

Here lies the paradox at the heart of Ignatian spirituality: the will, so carefully formed, is now freely offered back. Not out of fear or duty, but out of love.

“When you let go with all your heart you find a peace that outshines all striving.”

This is not the negation of the will—it is its fulfillment. Not the collapse of effort, but the height of the exercise of freedom. The one who has learned to choose well now chooses to surrender. Fr JM Manzano SJ

Grace To Beg For: "Lord, grant me the grace to surrender my entire will to You, that in all I do, I may live for Your truth and not my own desires. Let Your will be my joy, Your love my reward."

Meditation: “When it’s all been said and done, there is just one thing that matters…”

This song gently strips away the illusions of accomplishment and possession, reminding us that only what is done for love—and through surrender—will last. At the heart of Ignatian spirituality is this same invitation: to offer our will to God not grudgingly, but lovingly, as a gift.

In the Suscipe, St Ignatius prays, “Take, Lord, and receive… my entire will.” It is the third faculty after memory and understanding to be surrendered. To give up control, to choose God’s desires over our own, is not weakness—it is the loftiest exercise of freedom. For in that surrender, we find not loss, but love’s reward.

When it’s all been said and done, whose will have I followed—mine, or God’s?

Suscipe and Anima Christi