In 1953, an attractive, intelligent young medical student, one year ahead of me at the University of Virginia, stands out in my memory, though I hardly knew him. He was an anatomy proctor, a second-year medical student who showed academic excellence in anatomy and was given a small stipend to help first-year students learn.
He came to our lab table several afternoons each week from September to January, always carrying a book called “Peace of Mind.” His academic assistance was presented in a kind, informative, and encouraging manner.
The tattered “Peace of Mind” book he was seldom without was written by Rabbi Joshua L. Liebman (1907-1948). The anatomy proctor was not the only fan of Rabbi Liebman, a scholar who had been psychoanalyzed; it was on the New York Times #1 Best Seller List for over one year.
I was saddened when the proctor withdrew from medical school, took a menial job far beneath his abilities, and later ended his own life. His search for peace of mind was never realized.
The tragedy of this young man is a haunting reminder that peace of mind is not a byproduct of intelligence, nor is it a trophy for academic achievement. One can carry the book, study the definition, and master the anatomy of the brain, yet still find the soul in a state of terminal unrest. The question we must ask is why a mind so capable of understanding the physical “how” of life can fail so utterly at the spiritual “why.”
The Problem of the Closed System
Most of us pursue peace as if it were a destination we reach once our external world is in order. We tell ourselves,“I will have peace when the bills are paid, the kids are settled, or the career is secure.”
Logically, however, this is a “closed system” error. If your peace depends on a world that is constantly shifting, your peace will be just as unstable as the world around it. You cannot find a steady center within a storm if you are tethered to the waves. If the “self” is the highest authority in your life, then you are solely responsible for every outcome. That is not a recipe for peace; it is a recipe for a breakdown.
His tragedy was not a lack of information, but the“Closed System Error.” He attempted to solve the complexities of a struggling mind using only the resources of that same struggling mind. In engineering, a closed system without an external energy source eventually succumbs to entropy. In psychology, a mind without an external anchor eventually collapses under the weight of its own subjective loops.
The Object, Not the Emotion
Many people today speak of “having faith,” as if faith were a nebulous emotional energy they must manufacture within themselves. But faith is merely a bridge; it has no power of its own. Its value is determined entirely by the Object it connects to. If you have “great faith” in a thin sheet of ice, you will still fall through. If you have “small faith” in a solid bedrock, you remain safe.
In the pursuit of peace, the Object is God, the Judeo-Christian God.
The search for peace is not a psychological luxury; it is a pragmatic necessity for survival. Ancient biblical wisdom—presented not as dogma, but as a “User Manual” for the human mind—posits that peace is a matter of focus. In Isaiah 26:3, we find a foundational principle:“You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You.”
The word “stayed” is a technical term for being fixed, leaned, or anchored. In physics, a gyroscope stays level because it is fixed to a point outside its own movement. Spiritually, the logic is identical. Peace of mind is only possible when the mind is “stayed” on a Constant—an Object that does not change when the economy, our health, or our social standing fluctuates.
The Rationality of a Higher Authority
If we accept the logical premise that we did not create ourselves and we do not control the universe, then it is mathematically irrational to carry the burden of the universe’s outcomes.
When we identify God as the Source of peace, we are making an intelligent admission of our own limits. We acknowledge that the “system” of our lives requires an external Power to remain stable. This isn’t “blind faith”; it is a calculated recognition of the Architect’s role.
For my colleague in 1953, the book he carried was perhaps a map to a place he didn’t know how to get to. He was looking for peace within his own performance, which eventually exhausted him. He was trying to be the anchor and the ship at the same time.
The first step toward a lasting, pragmatic peace is acknowledging that we cannot manufacture it ourselves. It is a “steady state” that is gifted to us the moment we stop anchoring our worth in the shifting sands of our circumstances and instead anchor it in the Object that precedes all things.
Peace is not the absence of the storm; it is the presence of an Anchor—God—that the storm cannot move.
Peace of mind is a state of mental and emotional calmness, characterized by freedom from excessive worry, anxiety, and overwhelming stress. It involves experiencing inner contentment, safety, and stability, even amid external chaos.
The logical proof of the necessity of unwavering faith in the Judeo-Christian God, depicted in a systems perspective, does not diminish the inexplicable, even illogical, personal encounters with God through diligent prayer, sincere love of God (the First Commandment), respectful love for one another, along with trust and obedience.
In my 45-year practice of psychiatry, forensic psychiatry, and military psychiatry, I am assured that the Judeo-Christian God is the only lasting anchor of life that sounds too good to be true, but is Truth itself as well as Beautiful.
Robert S. Brown, MD, PHD a retired Psychiatrist, Col (Ret) U.S. Army Medical Corps devoted the last decade of his career to treating soldiers at Fort Lee redeploying from combat. He was a Clinical Professor of Psychiatry and Professor of Education at UVA. His renowned Mental Health course taught the value of exercise for a sound mind.
