[9/9] Novena of Grace: "Enough"

F

irst: The Gaze of the Trinity and the Hope of Mary

In the Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius of Loyola, the first point of the Meditation on the Incarnation invites us to look at the world through the eyes of the Trinity. The Divine Persons behold humanity in crisis—lost, wounded, and spiraling toward ruin. Moved by love, they decide that the Second Person will enter this broken world, take on flesh, and redeem it from within.

At the heart of this divine plan stands a young girl from Nazareth. Mary, hidden and humble, becomes the turning point. Her yes—her Fiat—echoes through eternity, bridging despair and redemption.

In a powerful scene from The Passion of the Christ, Jesus, battered and weak, collapses on the road to Calvary. Rushing to him, Mary simply says, “I’m here.” These immaculate words—words that any mother would say, words that do not disappoint—say it all: she says yes, she remains, she trusts, she gives herself.

When the world had nothing left to offer, Mary gave everything. Her yes was not born of "cheap" strength, but of faithful surrender. At barely fourteen, she began carrying the weight of the world’s and the Father's hope and desire. The Trinity's gaze rested on her—"hope enfleshed"—and her free and loving response opened the door to salvation.

As Lumen Gentium proclaims: “She is the favored daughter of the Father and the temple of the Holy Spirit… she far surpasses all other creatures, both in heaven and on earth” (LG 53).

Second: Hope Against Hope

Years later, her Son hangs on the cross, seemingly alone. But again, Mary is there—not just as a grieving mother, but as a woman who still believes like a "candle in the wind." As Jesus bleeds, she bleeds within, fulfilling Simeon’s prophecy: “And you yourself a sword shall pierce.”

On Black Saturday, when the tomb is sealed and heaven is silent, Mary waits. Not with answers, but with faith. Her Fiat returns—but in pain yet full of love and with great spiritual strength (con grande animo).

Then Jesus said, “Are you also still without understanding?" (Mt 15:16). But Mary came into full understanding. She didn’t simply think about Christ—she suffered with him, hoped with him, stayed with him. Her yes was hope embodied, vulnerable, crucified.

Origen spoke of two hopes: one based on what’s possible, and one rooted only in God’s promise. St Paul writes, “If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied” (1 Cor 15:19).

Mary lived that second kind of hoping beyond what could be hoped for in this life. She hoped against hope (Rom 4:18), not because she could see the outcome, but because she trusted the Father who promised. And that was enough.

The word basta—in Spanish, Italian, and Filipino—means “enough.” But not as in frustration or defeat. It is the “enough” of trust: “Lord, You are enough.” It is spoken not from emptiness, but from fullness. Mary was full—of surrender, of memory, of understanding, of love and of grace.

As St Teresa of Avila beautifully said: Nada te turbe, nada te espante, solo Dios basta (Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you. God alone is enough).

So with Mary, let us whisper again:

“I’m here. Let it be done unto me. Your love and your grace are enough, solo Dios basta.”

T

hird: The Joy Heaven Could Not Contain

St Ignatius reveres an ancient tradition that the first person to see the risen Christ was not Peter, not the women at the tomb, but Mary. At first, it may seem like a privilege—a reward for her faithfulness. But perhaps there's something even deeper at play.

Perhaps, God simply couldn’t contain his joy. Mary's "enough" is an ecstasy (rapture). A state of mind reaching far beyond the powers of ordinary human perception. A joy heaven could not contain. It overflows.

If there is rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents, how much more when one person has given her all? When one soul has loved through every silence, every sorrow, every loss—how could heaven not overflow with joy?

Mary’s yes didn’t just open the way for salvation. It unlocked the joy of the Resurrection. Her "candle burned out long before." Christ’s appearance to her wasn’t just a reunion. It was God rushing to meet the woman who never stopped believing. It was heaven’s answer to human faithfulness. No wonder she is "Our tainted nature's solitary boast" (The Virgin, William Wordsworth).

Mary was the first to see the Risen Lord not just because she waited, but because she hoped against hope. Because she said "I'm here" when God asked, "Take my hand... Will you share this with me? 'Cause darling, without you..." (Never Enough, The Greatest Showman).

In her heart there is always room for joy where others saw only loss.

To draw close to Mary is to draw close to the heart of God. Let us go to her, who stood when the world trembled in the dark. Let us stand beside her pierced heart and listen—there we will hear again the heartbeat of love, faith, and enduring hope, whispering:

“I'm here, solo Dios basta.” You Lord are enough for me.

Acknowledgment: I am deeply grateful to all my retreatants who, within the sacred space of spiritual conversation, have mirrored the mystery of grace and surrender—each one a living yes to God. Mutual prayers. Fr JM Manzano SJ

Grace to Beg For: "Lord, grant me the grace to love like Mary—unstoppably, unconditionally, and without measure. May no fear, no silence, no suffering be enough to silence my 'Yes' to You. Let me say, 'I’m here', even when nothing else seems enough."

Meditation: Imagine Mary in the silence of Black Saturday. Everything around her has fallen silent—her Son is gone, the world feels empty. And yet, something within her refuses to let go. She holds her breath, not to hide from the pain, but to hold the moment.

In the stillness, she sings—not with her lips, but with her soul:

All the shine of a thousand spotlights, all the stars we steal from the night sky… will never be enough. Not enough to take away my yes. Not enough to undo what I’ve given. Not enough to stop me from saying: I’m here.

Even towers of gold could not compare to the treasure she carries in her heart—a love that never gives up.

This is Mary’s song. This is the heart of one who has made space for God, again and again.

Let us join her in that surrender, and whisper with her:

"I’m here. And for You, Lord—this is enough."

Suscipe and Anima Christi