Jerry Seinfeld’s eponymous sitcom is an American classic. His more recent “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee” featured stars like Ellen DeGeneres, Eddie Murphy and even Barack Obama getting coffee with Seinfeld while enjoying a ride in a classic car. Now, in a recent interview, Seinfeld has announced his newest obsession: the “Meditations” of Marcus Aurelius.

And he’s not alone. 

Author Ryan Holliday has sold more than a million books distilling and developing insights from Marcus Aurelius and other Greco-Roman Stoic philosophers. National Public Radio has declared that these ancient thinkers are “having a modern revival.” Major sports personalities like now-retired Alabama football coach Nick Saban, NBA star Chris Bosh, and former MLB manager Joe Maddon have all attributed a degree of their success to an embrace of Stoic wisdom. 

Stoicism promises adherents a pathway to peace. The essence of Stoic thought is that you can direct your own response to the challenges you encounter. You may not be able to control all your circumstances, and you may still suffer disapproval from others, but anxiety and distress don’t have to co-opt your life. You may still live at peace. 

In “Meditations” Aurelius writes, “happiness lies all in the functions of reason, in warrantable desires and virtuous practice.” In other words, whatever stressful events and storms crash around you, happiness is still available: it’s up to you. You’re a responsible agent, and you can choose to react with contentment and tranquility. 

You may not agree with Jerry Seinfeld about comedy, cars, or the value of Greco-Roman philosophers, but perhaps you can see the reason for his new kick: with national and personal crises ever abounding, the Stoics offer a time-tested path to experiencing peace.

And yet it’s neither as well-trod nor as stable as the guidance of Psalm 131.

Psalm 131 is one of the 15 psalms with the title “a song of ascents.” According to Jewish tradition, this means that it was used as part of the pilgrim journeys up to Jerusalem for one of the ancient annual festivals. Its opening inscription—“of David,” suggests that it predates the earliest of the ancient Stoics by about 600 years. 

But even if more critical scholars are correct in taking the inscription as a notional nod to David rather than an outright attribution of authorship, the wisdom of Psalm 131 is still better since it encapsulates a stance toward life that stems from the very dawn of humanity in the Garden: the path to peace winds solely through trusting engagement with God. 

The poet of Psalm 131 expresses this in six statements: three denials, two affirmations, and one direct appeal. 

Verse 1 has the denials:

• “My heart is not lifted up.”
• “My eyes are not raised too high.”
• “I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.”

There are small differences between these statements, but they are roughly parallel. They each basically say, “I am not looking for another path to peace.”

Verse 2 affirms this further:

• “I have calmed and quieted my soul like a weaned child [one no-longer nursing] with its mother.”
• “Like a weaned child is my soul within me.”

“Soul” here means “the core of me.” The poet isn’t talking about the part that survives death and is reunited with the body in the new creation. He’s talking about the part that we mean when we say, “She really gets me.” The soul is the “me” part of me. That’s not to say that it resides somewhere in you; it’s not physical. But it is no less real from the perspective of lived experience, and that experience is what the poet wants us to grasp. 

Verse 3 sets out his direct appeal: “O Israel, hope in the Lord, from this time forth and forevermore.” This guidance is far more stable than the maxims of the Stoics. Instead of tying happiness to our effort, the poet puts the burden on God. Instead of digging deep for courage or rising above with magnanimity, you rest in the care of your Creator. Apart from him, the true core of your being is hidden, your real identity is obscure, your fulfilled self is an illusion. Only God has all that you need. 

Lest this sound like a hash of spiritual platitudes, note that the poet is a realist: he has written these lines for pilgrims. The key to peace is not arriving at Jerusalem, leaving behind the noise and dirt of the journey. The key is “hope in the Lord.” As plodding pilgrims seek the one who guides their every step they find contentment and tranquility in the midst of sweaty trudging and restless nights. 

As we journey to the New Jerusalem, this ancient song reverberates through the centuries so that we too hear the appeal to rest in the care of our Creator. Sure, it means acknowledging our utter inability to manufacture the happiness that we seek, and that admission cuts to the core of who we are. It runs counter to the supposed gospel of the Stoic revival: the burden for your happiness does not lie in your own capacity to be responsible.

When faced with adversity, Stoicism encourages us to look inward. But the Bible encourages us to look outside of ourselves, to the God who created and sustains us. This is “the secret” Paul said enabled him “in whatever situation…to be content.” This is the rest that Jesus promised to “all who labor and are heavy laden.” 

As we turn again and again to our gracious Creator, we discover a stable path to peace that will never fail. The poet’s appeal is for “this time forth and forevermore.” Which means that it’s for you. Today. Whatever you face. 

Hope in the Lord. 

Christopher Bechtel is pastor of Evergreen Church (PCA) in Salem, Oregon.