Suffering and Surrender: The Wisdom of Marcus Aurelius and Fr. Walter Ciszek

I’ve been reading Emperor Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations and have been struck by how much his thoughts on suffering and resilience remind me of Fr. Walter Ciszek, a 20th-century Jesuit priest whose writings have been a massive source of encouragement in my journey with chronic pain. Even though these two men come from vastly different worlds, their reflections on suffering, providence, and surrender share surprising similarities.

Two Men from Two Very Different Worlds

Marcus Aurelius, who ruled the Roman Empire in the second century A.D., is the embodiment of a philosopher-king, someone who combined immense power with a deep commitment to virtue and wisdom. His Meditations, written as a personal guide during his military campaigns, offer timeless reflections on how to live a life grounded in reason and inner strength. As a Stoic, his worldview was shaped by the belief that the universe, governed by the logos (rational order), is indifferent to human desires. For the Stoic, peace comes from accepting what fate brings and focusing on what we can control—our thoughts and actions.

Fr. Walter Ciszek’s story takes place in an entirely different context. In 1941, he was arrested as a suspected Vatican spy in Soviet Russia and spent 23 years in prison and labor camps. He endured brutal conditions, including five years of solitary confinement in the infamous Lubyanka prison, and 15 years of hard labor in the Gulag. His writings, particularly He Leadeth Me, reflect a deep Catholic faith centered on God’s providence. Ciszek teaches that no moment of suffering is wasted because everything that happens to us is allowed by God for a purpose. For him, trusting in God’s will—especially in the hardest times—was the key to both survival and spiritual growth.

Parallels in Their Approach to Suffering and Providence

Despite the stark differences in their lives, Marcus Aurelius and Fr. Walter Ciszek both offer profound wisdom on enduring suffering, trusting in a higher order, and finding peace in difficult circumstances. Their teachings align in several key areas.

1. Acceptance of What Cannot Be Controlled

Both men emphasize the importance of accepting what lies beyond our control and focusing instead on what is within—our thoughts, responses, and actions. In Meditations, Marcus Aurelius reflects on this when he writes:

"... [external] things have no hold on the soul. They stand there unmoving, outside it. Disturbance comes only from within—from our own perceptions" (Meditations 4.3).

The Stoic response to suffering, then, is to master the self—cultivating resilience by letting go of any anxiety about external events and focusing instead on how we choose to perceive and respond to them.

Fr. Ciszek echoes this wisdom, but through the lens of divine providence. In He Leadeth Me, he describes the profound realization that everything happening to him—even his imprisonment in Soviet Russia—was part of God’s plan:

“God is in all things, sustains all things, directs all things. To discern this in every situation and circumstance, to see His will in all things, was to accept each circumstance and situation and let oneself be borne along in perfect confidence and trust. Nothing could separate me from Him, because He was in all things.” (He Leadeth Me, 83)

For Ciszek, peace comes not just from enduring suffering, but from recognizing that every hardship is woven into God’s larger, loving plan. This trust in divine providence allows him to accept even the harshest circumstances with confidence, knowing that no situation, however difficult, is outside God’s care or purpose. His approach transforms suffering from something to simply tolerate into an experience that brings him closer to God’s sustaining presence.

2. Suffering as a Path to Growth

Both men see suffering as a path to growth, though they approach it from different foundations. In Marcus Aurelius’ view, suffering becomes a way to test and strengthen one’s virtues, particularly patience, resilience, and self-discipline. His famous line,

“The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way” (Meditations 5.20)

encapsulates the Stoic belief that obstacles, rather than halting progress, provide the very opportunities needed to cultivate character. The challenge is not merely to endure but to transform difficulties into catalysts for personal improvement and greater alignment with nature’s rational order.

Ciszek, similarly, views suffering as a path to transformation, but his understanding is deeply spiritual and rooted in faith. He writes:

“I had continuously to learn to accept God’s will—not as I wished it to be, not as it might have been, but as it actually was at the moment. And it was through the struggle to do this that spiritual growth and a greater appreciation of his will took place. Of course, there were doubts; at one time, there was near despair. It was not reason that sustained me then but faith. Only by faith could I find God present in every circumstance; only by faith could I penetrate the mystery of his saving grace, not by questioning it in any way but by fully cooperating with it in exactly the way he asked. It was then, in differing measures and with varying degrees of success, that the glimpses of his providence ruling all things would work to dispel the doubts and the fears that were constantly on the edges of the mind. So I learned by trial and error that if I wanted to preserve my interior peace and joy, I had to have constant recourse to prayer, to the eyes of faith, to a humility that could make me aware of how little my own efforts meant and how dependent I was upon God’s grace even for prayer and faith itself” (He Leadeth Me, 124).

For Ciszek, suffering is not only about building internal strength or endurance. It is a spiritual process that draws one closer to Christ and deepens one's faith. While both men agree that suffering can be redemptive, Ciszek’s theology introduces a deeply personal relationship with God as the foundation of this transformation. In contrast to Stoicism's reliance on reason and inner control, Ciszek places trust in God’s providence and grace, seeing suffering as a means to participate in Christ’s redemptive work and to grow in humility and dependence on divine will.

3. Freedom Through Surrender

Another shared theme between Marcus Aurelius and Fr. Walter Ciszek is the idea that true freedom comes from surrender—whether to the rational order of the universe or to God’s will. Marcus Aurelius writes:

"Just as you overhear people saying that 'the doctor prescribed such-and-such for him' (like riding, or cold baths, or walking barefoot …), say this: 'Nature prescribed illness for him.' Or blindness. Or the loss of a limb. Or whatever. There 'prescribed' means something like 'ordered, so as to further his recovery.' And so too here. What happens to each of us is ordered. It furthers our destiny… So there are two reasons to embrace what happens. One is that it’s happening to you. It was prescribed for you, and it pertains to you. The thread was spun long ago, by the oldest cause of all. The other reason is that what happens to an individual is a cause of well-being in what directs the world—of its well-being, its fulfillment, of its very existence, even. Because the whole is damaged if you cut away anything—anything at all—from its continuity and its coherence. Not only its parts, but its purposes. And that’s what you’re doing when you complain: hacking and destroying" (Meditations 5.8).

Marcus Aurelius teaches that what happens to each person is not random but "prescribed" by nature, as if to fulfill a greater purpose. Surrendering to this reality, rather than resisting or complaining, is the key to achieving inner peace. The Stoic path to peace lies in relinquishing control over external events and focusing on harmonizing one’s internal life with the flow of the universe. By accepting life’s challenges as part of a larger, predetermined order, one can find freedom in aligning with nature's rational course, knowing that everything contributes to the coherence of the whole.

Fr. Ciszek, imprisoned in a Soviet labor camp, found similar freedom through surrender, though in a deeply spiritual context. He writes:

“By renouncing, finally and completely, all control of my life and future destiny, I was relieved as a consequence of all responsibility. I was freed thereby from anxiety and worry, from every tension, and could float serenely upon the tide of God's sustaining providence in perfect peace of soul” (He Leadeth Me, 84).

For Ciszek, freedom came not from trying to control or change his horrible circumstances, but from abandoning all control to God’s providence. In contrast to Marcus Aurelius' submission to the impersonal logos, Ciszek’s surrender was to a personal and loving God who guided his every moment. This relinquishing of personal control allowed Ciszek to find peace amid great suffering, knowing that God’s hand directed his fate. In both cases, the surrender is the key to liberation—Marcus Aurelius finds peace by yielding to the rational order of the cosmos, while Ciszek finds peace by trusting completely in the will of a loving God.

Both men demonstrate that true freedom does not come from controlling our circumstances, but from letting go of that desire for control and placing trust—whether in a divine will or the cosmic order.

Beyond Stoicism: The Christian View of Suffering

While Marcus Aurelius offers profound wisdom on how to endure suffering with reason and inner strength, Fr. Ciszek’s Catholic perspective goes a step further. For Marcus Aurelius, the logos—the rational order governing the universe—is impersonal. We submit to it because it is the natural way of things, but there is no personal relationship or love between the logos and the individual.

For Ciszek, however, the Logos is Christ Himself, the second person of the Trinity. God not only governs the universe but knows and loves each of us, individually and personally. This makes all the difference. Suffering, in the Christian view, is not just something to be endured but something that can be redemptive. Ciszek believes that suffering can bring us closer to God, not because it builds character in the abstract, but because it unites us with Christ’s own suffering. Rather than viewing suffering merely as a test of endurance, Ciszek sees it as an invitation into a deeper relationship with the divine life, an opportunity to share in Christ’s passion and love.

For the Christian, suffering is not isolated or random. It is embedded in a divine plan of redemption. While Stoicism encourages us to accept fate and bear suffering with equanimity, Christianity offers the hope that suffering has a purpose. Ciszek emphasizes that suffering is not sent by God as punishment, but as a means of transforming us into the image of Christ. It draws us deeper into God’s love and His plan for our lives, where we are not only participants in a cosmic order but beloved children of a God who suffers with us and redeems that suffering. This transformation from endurance to love-filled suffering is what ultimately sets Ciszek’s Catholic theology apart from the Stoicism of Marcus Aurelius, offering a richer, more personal understanding of human suffering and divine providence.

The Deeper Call

So, what do we take away from these two very different men? Both Marcus Aurelius and Fr. Walter Ciszek teach us that suffering is not something to be feared, but something to be embraced and transformed. Marcus Aurelius shows us that pain is part of life’s natural order and a tool for cultivating inner strength. But Ciszek invites us to go further—he reminds us that suffering is not only a tool for growth but also a sacred opportunity to unite ourselves with Christ’s love and redemption.

As we walk our own Pilgrimage of Pain, we can draw strength from both Stoic resilience and Christian surrender. Marcus Aurelius teaches us that we have the power to control our responses, even in the face of suffering. But Fr. Walter Ciszek reminds us that we don’t walk this path alone—God walks with us, transforming our suffering into something holy, meaningful, and ultimately redemptive.

In the end, suffering is not just a trial. It’s an invitation to deeper faith, trust, and transformation. May we find, in our own pilgrimage, the strength to endure, the courage to surrender, and the grace to grow closer to the One who makes all things new.