The Tzaddik Who Healed with Love, Not Medicine

In the city of Piotrkow lived a Jewish man suffering from tuberculosis, a deadly and incurable disease at the time. His health was slowly deteriorating, and he was being treated by Professor Bernard, a highly respected doctor and an assimilated Jew who had turned away from Torah. The professor tried everything in his power to slow the decline, but eventually the disease progressed too far.

After a final round of tests, the professor had no more good news to offer. “I’m sorry,” he told the patient, “but you should begin saying goodbye to your loved ones. There’s nothing more to do.”

The man, not ready to give up hope, replied, “If that’s the case, I want to go to the healing springs in Karlsbad. I’ll rest in the peaceful town, drink from the springs, and maybe, just maybe, the waters will ease my pain and give me a little more time.”

But the professor was doubtful. “The journey is long and tiring, and it will only worsen your condition. And even more concerning—when you arrive, you’ll have to be examined. The doctors there will never allow someone as ill as you to use the springs. It’s too dangerous and highly contagious.”

Despite the warning, the patient set out for Karlsbad. But just as the professor predicted, the doctors there turned him away. They wouldn’t let him near the springs. Disappointed and heartbroken, the man boarded a carriage and began the journey home.

On the way, he passed through the town of Lelov, where a holy man, Rabbi David of Lelov—a tzaddik (righteous man)—was known to live. The patient, feeling hopeless, remembered what he’d heard about this special rabbi. “If I’m already passing through, I should at least ask him for a blessing,” he thought. He asked the carriage driver to stop at the rabbi’s home.

Rabbi David welcomed him warmly, like an old friend. He invited him to stay and share a meal—but the house was nearly empty. There was no fresh food. The only thing the rabbi could find was a small piece of old salted cheese and a dusty jug of aged wine. The man ate what was offered, felt the kindness of the tzaddik, and soon fell into a deep sleep.

To his shock, the next morning he awoke completely healed. The blood had stopped, the coughing was gone, breathing came easily again. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his chest. He had been restored.

“This is the power of a mitzvah,” Rabbi David told him. “The Gemara (Bava Batra 16b) says that our father Avraham wore a precious stone around his neck, and anyone who looked at it was healed. What does that mean? That’s the power of 'chesed l’Avraham'—Avraham’s kindness. The mitzvah of hachnasat orchim (welcoming guests) brings healing.”

Overjoyed, the man returned to Piotrkow and went straight to Professor Bernard. “I went to Karlsbad,” he said, “but they turned me away.”

“I told you it was a waste,” the professor sighed. “Let me examine you. I need to see what damage the trip did.”

But as he examined the man, the professor’s eyes widened in disbelief. The lungs were healthy. The body, whole. “This can’t be,” he whispered. “You were dying. You had one of the worst cases I’ve ever seen. But now... it’s as if you were given new lungs! It’s a miracle!”

“I know,” the man said simply. “On the way home I stopped in Lelov. Rabbi David of Lelov gave me something to eat, and I woke up healed.”

The professor leaned forward, skeptical. “What did he give you? Some magic potion? A strange treatment?”

“No,” said the man, smiling. “Just old cheese and some wine.”

The professor jumped from his chair. “That’s poison for someone with your condition! I must meet this man who heals using poison!”

Without delay, he traveled to Lelov to meet the tzaddik. “I’m a professor,” he introduced himself. “A trained medical expert. I want to understand—how did you heal a dying man so quickly, with food that should have made him worse?”

Rabbi David smiled gently. “If you stay with me for two days, I will teach you.”

The professor agreed. “I studied medicine for years. What’s two more days?”

Over those two days, the tzaddik taught him not about herbs or medical treatments—but about Hashem, the Creator of the world. He spoke of how Hashem guides every part of creation, how He chose the Jewish people with love and gave them the Torah, and how He listens to the prayers of those who fear Him and to the promises of His righteous ones.

A new light dawned within the professor’s heart. Everything the tzaddik said rang with truth. He listened with awe, feeling as though a new world had opened before him.

The professor was no longer the same. He returned to Hashem. He began to learn more and more. Eventually, Rabbi David even began teaching him the deep secrets of Kabbalah—Jewish mystical teachings.

But the professor hesitated. “Rabbi,” he said quietly, “just a few days ago, I was eating non-kosher food... Can I really study something so holy?”

The rabbi answered with a smile, quoting a verse: “Draw your hands away from idol worship—and take a sheep for the mitzvah!” In other words, as soon as you turn away from sin, you are ready to come close to Hashem.

Rabbi David brought the professor to meet his own teacher, the holy Seer of Lublin, and the professor eventually became one of his close chassidim. That professor was none other than the holy Rabbi Chaim David of Piotrkow.

This is the power of teshuvah (returning to Hashem). The Talmud teaches (Kiddushin 49b): “If a man says to a woman, ‘I marry you on condition that I am completely righteous,’ even if he was previously a wicked man, we worry that the betrothal may be valid—because perhaps in that moment, he had thoughts of repentance and became completely righteous.” With one thought, a person can change their entire path.

The Chatam Sofer explained the verse in Tehillim (Psalms): “As far as east is from west, so has He distanced our sins from us.” When a person is facing west, east seems far away. But the moment he turns around, east is right in front of him. That’s all it takes—just one turn. One moment. And everything changes.

May we merit, especially in these days of mercy, to return to Hashem with a full heart—and see miracles, healing, and joy in our lives.

(From the book Mekarvan L’Torah, courtesy of the Dirshu website.)