Doctor!, Where is Your Diploma in Prophecy?

By Rabbi David Bibi

Rabbi Yisroel Brog

Rabbi Yisroel Brog tells a personal story that brings this distinction to life. It struck me deeply and I wanted to share it. Shortly before Pesah, a student came to visit him and noticed something concerning. “Rabbi, you need to see a doctor immediately.”

Rabbi Brog wanted to wait until after Yom Tov, but the student insisted and somehow obtained an immediate appointment. The first physician examined him and said that the case was beyond his level and that he needed a specialist. Another appointment was arranged almost immediately. The specialist conducted further examinations and delivered the diagnosis: cancer.

Surgery was scheduled for Hol HaMoed. Afterward, the physician explained that he had not been able to remove everything and that Rabbi Brog would need an intensive course of radiation. The head of the treatment program invited Rabbi Brog and his wife into his office and explained that he had treated thousands of similar cases. He warned them that Rabbi Brog would likely lose his voice, might lose his voice box, might have to speak through a machine, would have difficulty swallowing and sleeping, would no longer be able to deliver his lectures, and would lose his beard.

Rabbi Brog's wife began to cry. But Rabbi Brog was not looking at the doctor. He was studying the wall.

“Rabbi, are you listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you staring at my wall?”

“I am looking for one particular diploma, and I cannot find it.”

“What diploma?”

“You have attended many universities. You have accumulated many degrees. You are clearly a very educated man. But did you ever complete a course in prophecy?”

The physician was startled. Rabbi Brog continued, “You may tell me what ordinarily happens. You may tell me what you have observed in thousands of patients. You may tell me what the statistics indicate. But how can you declare with certainty what will happen to me? That would require prophecy.”

That is the heart of the story. Rabbi Brog was not denying the diagnosis. He had undergone surgery and was preparing to begin treatment. He was not denying the physician's expertise. He was challenging the transformation of probability into certainty.

There is a tremendous difference between saying, “This treatment commonly affects the voice,” and saying, “You will not speak.” There is a difference between saying, “This is a very serious illness,” and saying, “There is no hope.” A physician may know the disease, the treatment and the statistics. But he does not know the decree of Hashem. A physician may know medicine. A prophet knows the future. Those are not the same thing.

At this point, however, we must be very careful. A discussion about bitachon can become dangerous if someone walks away believing that faith means refusing medicine. That is not Judaism. That is not emunah. And that is not bitachon.

The Torah states, “Verapo yerape”—“He shall surely provide for his healing” (Shemot 21:19). The Gemara in Bava Kamma 85a derives from these words, “Mikan shenitnah reshut larofe lerapot”—“From here we learn that permission was granted to the physician to heal.”

The Ramban explains in Torat HaAdam that the physician cannot say, “If Hashem made this person ill, who am I to interfere?” Healing is not interference with the will of Hashem. Healing is one of the ways in which we fulfill the will of Hashem.

The Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh De'ah 336:1, rules that healing is a mitzvah and that a qualified physician who is able to save a patient and refuses to do so may bear responsibility for the patient's blood. Medicine is not the enemy of emunah. Medicine is one of the instruments Hashem placed within creation.

Parashat Ekev gives us the model. Hashem fed the Jewish people with manna: "Hama'akhilkha man bamidbar asher lo yede'un avotekha, lema'an anotkha ulema'an nasotekha, leheitivkha be'aharitekha”—“He fed you manna in the wilderness, which your fathers did not know, in order to afflict you and test you, ultimately to benefit you" (Devarim 8:16).

Why was the manna a test? Because each morning the Jewish people had to leave their tents and gather it. They could not remain in bed and say, “Hashem will provide." They had to walk, bend down and gather. But gathering did not create the manna. Their hands collected the blessing; their hands did not produce the blessing.

That is the balance of medicine. We make the appointment. We obtain another opinion when necessary. We undergo the procedure. We take the medication. We ask questions. We follow responsible medical and halachic guidance. But we do not say, "Kohi ve'otzem yadi”—“My power and the strength of my hand accomplished this."

The physician treats. Hashem heals.

That distinction does not diminish the physician. It places the physician in the honorable position the Torah gives him: a skilled messenger performing sacred work. We do not pray instead of seeking treatment; we pray while seeking treatment. We do not choose between medicine and emunah; we bring emunah into the doctor's office, into the hospital room and into every decision we make.

Rabbi Brog began the radiation treatments. Each day, the technicians fastened his head to the treatment table while the machine delivered radiation to his throat. As the treatment began, he repeated, "Yishlah devaro veyirpa'em, vimalet mishhitotam”—“He sends His word and heals them, and rescues them from destruction" (Tehillim 107:20). He also repeated, “Lishuatekha kiviti Hashem”—“For Your salvation I hope, Hashem” (Bereishit 49:18).

The physician had told him to find replacements for his daily lectures because he would not be able to speak once treatment began. Rabbi Brog responded with the verse, "Le'adam ma'arkhei lev, u'meHashem ma'aneh lashon”—“A person may arrange the thoughts of his heart, but from Hashem comes the answer of the tongue" (Mishlei 16:1).

After the first treatment, Rabbi Brog returned home and delivered a shiur. When he came back, the physician heard him speaking and asked in surprise, “You are still talking?” Rabbi Brog answered, "You told me what generally happens. You did not issue a decree."

Week after week, his beard remained, his voice remained, and he continued swallowing and teaching. Eventually, the doctor suspected that he must be taking some secret medication. Rabbi Brog answered that there was no secret medicine; there was simply a reality beyond the doctor's calculations.

After twenty-three treatments, Rabbi Brog made a decision that shocked the medical team. He announced that he would not return. The technicians protested, and the physicians warned him that he was in the middle of the prescribed protocol and that stopping treatment could be extremely dangerous. Rabbi Brog felt that his condition had improved and believed that continuing treatment might weaken him, so he refused to return.

Here we must pause. Rabbi Brog's decision was intensely personal, medically unconventional and contrary to the recommendation of his treating physicians. It cannot become the practical lesson of this story. No one should hear this account and conclude that bitachon permits us to discontinue treatment or disregard medical advice. Decisions involving serious illness must be made with qualified physicians and competent halachic guidance.

The lesson is not that we should imitate every action Rabbi Brog took. The lesson is the inner position from which he faced his illness. He would undergo treatment and perform his hishtadlut, but he would not allow the treatment—or those administering it—to become the final authority over his future.

Three months later, according to his account, he returned for testing. The doctor greeted him and said, "Rabbi, you beat it."

Rabbi Brog corrected him.

"No. I did not beat it. HE beat it."

That sentence is the proper conclusion of the story. Not, "My faith forced Hashem to perform a miracle.” Not, “Anyone with sufficient bitachon will receive the same result.” That would be cruel, untrue and deeply unfair. Many extraordinary people possess profound emunah and still endure terrible illness. We do not measure a person's faith by the medical outcome he receives.

Rabbi Brog's message was personal: In his illness, Hashem showed him that the doctor's prediction was not the final word. His miracle does not guarantee our miracle. But his refusal to surrender hope can awaken hope within us.

Reprinted from Parashat Ekeb 5786 email of Rabbi David Bibi's Shabbat Shalom from Cyberspace.