What a Sick Man's Journey to a Mythical Doctor Taught Me About Real Healing

The Professor of Annipoli

There is an old story about a man suffering from a severe illness. He had tried everything, but his condition only worsened. Desperate, he sought the counsel of a wise man, who listened patiently before giving him a single piece of advice: find the “famous professor from Annipoli.”

The name sparked a flicker of hope. Annipoli was a remote, one-horse town, but the man was willing to go anywhere for a cure. He undertook the difficult, backbreaking wagon trip, a long and bumpy journey that tested his resolve. When he finally arrived at the dusty township, his heart was full of anticipation. He approached the first person he saw and asked where the famed professor lived.

The local shrugged his shoulders. There was no professor in Annipoli, he said. No doctor, either. The sick man’s heart broke. He had made this entire excruciating journey for nothing.

“What do you people do when you get sick, with no doctor or medic in town?” he asked, his voice full of despair.

The local’s answer changed everything. “Whenever people here are ill,” he explained, “they repent, pray to the Creator, ask Him to cure them, and then they get better.”

The man's journey seemed like a failure, but it led him to a profound, life-altering discovery. What hidden truths did he uncover on that dusty road? Here are the most surprising lessons from his quest.

You’re Only Seeing the Middle of the Movie

We have all asked the questions. Why does a kind person who never harmed a flea die young, while a ruthless tyrant reigns to a ripe old age? Why do some people seem to glide through life while others face excruciating hardships from birth? These seemingly unfair differences perplex us and can shake our sense of a just and ordered world.

The truth is, our perspective is impossibly limited. The sages compare our situation to a person who arrives late to the movies. He walks into the theater and sees a man on screen mercilessly beating a lady. Outraged, he blurts out loud, “You villain! Leave the lady alone!” The other viewers hush him, saying, “If you’d have seen the beginning of the movie, you’d have seen the unspeakable things she did to him...”

Our lives are much the same. We are only seeing a tiny portion of the entire picture. We cannot know what happened in a soul’s previous lives, nor can we understand the specific mission or spiritual correction—the tikkun—that an individual soul must rectify during its time on earth. What appears to be a random injustice is often a scene whose beginning we simply didn't get to see. And just as we mistake the plot because we can't see the full story, we also mistake the actors for the director, which leads to our next profound error.

Stop Wasting Energy on the 'Stick'

When we suffer, our first instinct is often to find someone or something to blame. A cruel boss, a difficult spouse, a dishonest neighbor—we identify them as the source of our pain and direct our anger and sorrow toward them. But this is a profound mistake.

An old adage tells of a master who uses a stick to punish a slave. It would be ridiculous for the slave to get angry at the stick or try to appease it. The stick is merely an instrument in the master's hand. In the same way, the people and circumstances that upset us are nothing more than “sticks in the hands of the Almighty.” This requires us to cast aside the deceptive logic that points to a human culprit and recognize that they are not the true source of our pain; they are the instruments through which a message is being delivered.

Blaming another person for one's sorrow is a critical error that “forfeits the Divine intervention that he or she would have received had they appealed to Hashem.” A person's life is not truly in the hands of their employer, their bank manager, or their business partner. It is in the hands of the “true Authority, the only One Who determines what will happen in his life.” To get angry at the stick is to miss the point entirely. To stop blaming the stick is to recognize a higher authority at play. But who is this authority, and how do we appeal to Him directly? The sick man from our story discovered the answer in the most unexpected way.

The Real Doctor Is Always Available (and Doesn't Charge for House Calls)

When the sick man returned from Annipoli, heartbroken and confused, he came to the wise man who had sent him on the fruitless journey, complaining bitterly.

The wise man smiled patiently. “That’s the professor of Annipoli,” he answered. “It’s the Creator! Whenever people turn to Him, He cures them. He’s the professor that the people of Annipoli turn to. He’s available 24 hours a day and doesn’t charge for house calls.”

The journey was not meant to lead to a human healer, but to a realization. The story reveals a core principle: the issue isn't the use of medicine, but when our dependence on the "man with the stethoscope" becomes greater than our dependence on the hands of the Creator. The message is not to be afraid of doctors or their forecasts, because “everything depends on the Creator anyway.” He is the Master Physician. The man was healed only when he finally understood that his focus should have been on the Creator all along, not on a human intermediary. The man's healing began when he shifted his faith from the intermediary to the Source. This points to a surprising truth about what it means to live a life of faith—it's less about the rituals we perform and more about the state of our heart.

The Surprising Truth About an "Observant" Life

A story is told of two brothers that challenges our conventional ideas of what it means to be close to God. One brother was an “observant Jew that learns Torah all day long.” He followed all the rules, yet he was perpetually depressed, complaining about his long list of worries and tribulations. The other brother was “non-observant” and lived a secular life, yet he was “pleasantly optimistic.”

The observant brother, in his bitterness, finally approached the sage giving the lecture he attended and complained: “Why is my life so bitter? Yet, my brother observes almost nothing, and everything seems to be going his way. What’s going on here?”

The sage’s answer stunned him. He explained that the observant brother was, in fact, “further away from truth than his non-observant brother.” How could this be?

The non-observant brother lived with a simple, powerful faith. He believed that “everything’s for the best,” welcomed whatever Hashem gave him, and constantly expressed gratitude. The observant brother, for all his learning and rituals, did not possess this core belief. His constant state of complaint was not just a bad mood; it was a profound spiritual failing. As the teachings explain, “a sad and bitter person is in effect making the statement that he or she is dissatisfied with the way the creator runs the world. No other feeling in the world so negates emuna.” His rituals were hollow because his heart was in rebellion against Divine will. True observance is not just in the action, but in the heart’s joyful acceptance of that will. This reveals that happiness isn't just a pleasant emotion we chase; it's the very foundation upon which a clear and purposeful life is built.

Happiness Isn't the Goal—It's the Prerequisite

In our search for a meaningful life, many of us believe that happiness is the ultimate goal—something we will achieve once we have the right job, the right partner, or the right amount of money. But this puts the cart before the horse. The truth is, “the prerequisite to living a directed and purposeful life free of unfortunate mistakes is the choice of being happy with our lot in life.”

This process happens in two stages. First, a person must choose to be happy with their current circumstances, whatever they may be. Only after making that initial choice can they progress to the second stage: weighing their options and making decisions with “clarity of thought and mind.” A person who fails to make this first choice remains mired in sadness and depression, which “destroy clarity of thought.” This isn't merely an emotional state; it's a spiritual one. Sadness is considered a "transgression" because it is a form of static that blocks communication with the Creator, making divinely-guided decisions impossible.

Think of it like being a passenger on a bus. Those with faith, or emuna, are like relaxed passengers on an intercity trip. They trust that the “Veteran Driver” knows the best route. They don't worry or try to second-guess him; they simply relax and enjoy the journey. In contrast, those who lack emuna are like nervous passengers who are constantly trying to drive the bus from their own seat. They suffer from stress, bitterness, and frustration because they lack faith in the one who is truly in control.

Your Turn to Seek the Professor

The sick man’s journey to Annipoli was not about finding a human doctor, but about discovering the true source of all healing. He had to travel to a town with no external solutions to finally turn inward and upward for the real one. His story is our story, a timeless reminder that the emptiest places are often designed to make us look for the fullest source. Our challenges, our illnesses, and our moments of suffering are not random misfortunes; they are invitations to embark on our own journey to Annipoli. They are calls to seek out the one true Healer who is always waiting for us to turn to Him.

The “Professor” is always in, and the journey to find Him is simply a turn of the heart.