The reality is simple and indisputable: our health depends on two major factors:

1. The actions we take to care for our own health.

2. Factors that affect our health but are beyond our control.

When it comes to what we cannot control, we place our trust in HaShem.
That is why praying and asking HaShem to protect us from diseases, and to help us heal when we are ill, is essential.

At the same time, Judaism teaches that there is a strong interaction between HaShem and the physician.
Being a doctor is one of the noblest professions, because the physician acts as a proxy of God.
In my own words: HaShem heals us through the doctors.
When a surgeon operates, we believe that HaShem is guiding his hands.

For this reason, unlike certain other religions or cults, Judaism considers it a mitzva — an obligation — to visit doctors regularly and entrust ourselves to their care.
As the Tora commands:
וְנִשְׁמַרְתֶּם מְאֹד לְנַפְשֹׁתֵיכֶם
“You shall diligently guard your lives.”

Maintaining good health requires, first of all, routine medical checkups — especially when we have, or suspect we have, any symptoms of illness.

Keeping ourselves healthy also means staying away from bad habits.
For example: smoking.
If I smoke, I cannot expect HaShem to protect me from the consequences of tobacco.
Nor can I expect the doctor to perform miraculous treatments on my lungs while I continue to smoke.

In addition to avoiding bad habits, we must also adopt preventive habits.

Many of these “segulot” for preventing illness were formulated by haRambam — Maimonides — 800 years ago.
Maimonides, who was not only a great rabbi but also a famous physician, devoted an entire chapter of Mishne Tora (Hilkhot De’ot, chapter 4) to preventive medicine.
Anticipating the modern concept of “preventive medicine” by eight centuries, Maimonides discussed diet, sleep, physical exercise, hygiene, and more.

Let’s begin with what he taught about eating habits.

The first thing we must improve, according to Maimonides, is our eating. He teaches us that we should eat in moderation: eat to live, and not live to eat.

In De’ot, chapter 4, halakha 2, Maimonides warns about overeating — in Hebrew, akhila gasa — gluttony:
“One should not eat until his stomach is full, but only up to three-quarters of his total satisfaction.”
In other words, it is actually good to feel a little hungry after we finish eating. It is a desirable and healthy habit.

We live in a time when most of us, Barukh HaShem, have food on our tables.
In the United States, for example, the major public health problem is no longer malnutrition, but overeating.
Obesity has become an epidemic and is now the number one health risk for millions of people.

Maimonides said it explicitly in 4:15:
“Overeating (akhila gasa) is toxic to the body of any person. It is the main source of all diseases. Most illnesses that afflict a person are caused either by eating harmful foods or by filling the stomach and overeating — even with healthy foods.”
He adds that King Solomon already warned about this in Mishle (Proverbs) 21:23:
“Whoever cares for his mouth and his tongue preserves his soul from anguish.”
“Caring for his mouth” includes avoiding harmful foods and refraining from overeating.

Finally, I leave for the end what I consider the most practical and powerful piece of advice from Maimonides regarding eating habits:

4:1 — “Do not eat unless you are hungry.”

SEGULA: Repeat these words of Maimonides in Hebrew with nekudot:
לְעוֹלָם לֹא יֹאכַל אָדָם אֶלָּא כְּשֶׁהוּא רָעֵב וְלֹא יִשְׁתֶּה אֶלָּא כְּשֶׁהוּא צָמֵא

Eating healthily and avoiding overeating will help us enjoy a long life of good health.

The market is flooded with advice on how to get rich. Books, articles, and hundreds of videos try to convince you that you can become rich if you know where to invest your money, how to diversify your portfolio, etc. Or, if you don’t have money to invest, they teach you what you must do to amass a small fortune easily and quickly.
Unlike other religions whose ideal is poverty, in Judaism, wealth is not seen as bad as long as one obtains money honestly. But our Sages coined a very interesting—super modern; I would say—a concept that shows the unconscious relationship between wealth and thought. They said אין עניות אלא מדעת, “Poverty, ultimately, is a mental condition.” Although there are various opinions on the nature of this statement, I would like to refer to an explanation applicable to our modern times.
What does wealth consist of? Wealth is not measured by what one has but by what one needs. Regardless of how much I have, I am a poor person if I need more than what I have. The level of my poverty (or my wealth) is the difference between what I have and what I feel I need to have. The wider this gap, the poorer I am, and vice versa. Our rabbis teach us that poverty can be a state of autosuggestion: the conviction that I do not have everything I need. That what I possess is not enough for me. It does not satisfy me that I need more. Whereas wealth is the mental state in which I am at peace with what I have. I do not need more than what I already possess.
I will explain it with numbers. In fractions, we have the numerator and the denominator. In “3 over 4” (3/4), “three” is the numerator, and “four” is the denominator. In our case, the numerator is “what I have,” and the denominator is “what I think I need.” Sometimes, my numerator, what I have, can be very high, for example, “9.” But what happens if my denominator, what I wish to have, is 10, 15, or 50? And sometimes my numerator is lower, say “3,” but my denominator is also 3. Who is richer, the one who has 9 or the one who has 3? It will all depend on the denominator. The one who has 3/3 is richer than the one who has 9/10 and much richer than the one who has 9/50.
Typically, in the consumer society, people try to increase their numerator to be rich and reach the “conventional” denominator. But when they finally reach the denominator, they discover that the denominator has changed, it has risen. These people, perhaps unknowingly, live in a permanent mental state of “poverty.” They always “need” and are missing something else. They are unaware of their grave mistake: handing control of their denominator to consumer society. One of the best examples I can give is that of a cell phone. I have a Samsung 5. Perfect phone. It has everything I need and much more than I need. Suddenly, Samsung announces its latest model: the Samsung “7.” And so, almost as if by magic, my Samsung 5 now seems insufficient to me. Suddenly, I “need” more megapixels, a screen 13 millimeters larger than the one I have, and, of course, the now indispensable fingerprint sensor (how could I survive without it?!). Having the Samsung 5 and “needing” the Samsung 7 is the best illustration of mental poverty, absolutely relative, of 5/7, and it makes me think that only when I obtain the Samsung 7 will I be rich! For a while until Samsung presents the model 80.
According to our Sages, the key to being truly rich is to be aware of our denominator and have it under our control, not under the control of consumer society, as usually happens. The value of the denominator must be established by my values and my religious principles and be independent of consumer society and the world of advertising.
To master this SEGULA and feel rich NOW, we will repeat as many times as necessary: “The less I need, the richer I am. I don’t have to have what I want: I have to want what I have.”

נחית דרגא נסיב איתתא

פ’ רש”י לא תקח אשה חשובה ממך שמא לא תתקבל עליה. יבמות ס”ג

Maimonides teaches that certain Mitsvot act as our “protective angels.” One of these Mitsvot is the Mezuza. But what exactly are we being protected from? And what kind of protection does the Mezuza offer us? Let’s see.

Today, the Mezuza is more necessary than ever. We live in a super-hectic world, overwhelmed by worries and distractions: material needs that require urgent attention, bills to pay, jobs to complete, tests to pass, competition to face, and more. These issues demand our full attention — now! We are so consumed by urgent matters that we forget to focus on the most important thing in life: the purpose of our existence.

Of course, “the meaning of life” is only relevant to those of us who believe in God. If someone believes that life emerged by cosmic accident billions of years ago, and that we are nothing more than a fortuitous mutation of apes, then the question of “purpose” is irrelevant. If God does not exist, there is no higher purpose to seek. Survival becomes the only goal, and the laws of the jungle prevail.

However, for those of us who believe that God created the universe, life, and ourselves, we know there must be a reason behind our existence. Pursuing that purpose — and keeping it constantly in mind — is what gives meaning, direction, and depth to our lives.

Ideally, we should live with this awareness at every moment. Everything we do should be guided by our mission and our purpose.
But reality often looks very different. A person can believe in God, understand his purpose, and still be so absorbed in worldly responsibilities that he ends up “forgetting” the very reason he was placed in this world. If this forgetfulness becomes constant, it amounts to spiritual suicide — perhaps the greatest human tragedy.

Now we can better appreciate the role of the Mezuza. The Mezuza contains the Shema Israel — the fundamental declaration of the Tora affirming the existence of God. Every time we enter a room, cross a threshold, or move from one place to another, we pause briefly to touch and connect with the Mezuza. That brief moment forces us to interrupt our worldly thoughts and reconnect with our Creator. The Mezuza recenters us, refocuses our minds, and renews our awareness of what truly matters. It is the antidote to the dangerous illness of existential forgetfulness.

Maimonides explicitly mentions this “segula” of the Mezuza. In Mishne Tora, Hilkhot Mezuza 6:13, he writes: “One should take great care in [the observance of the Mitsva of] the Mezuza. Each time one enters or leaves [a room], one must connect with the name of God [written in the Mezuza]. In this way, a person awakens from his [spiritual] lethargy, [letting go of] his obsession with worldly vanities. Thus, one recognizes that nothing will accompany him for all eternity except the knowledge of the Creator [the ever-clearer awareness that God exists]. This will help him regain full consciousness [of his purpose] and thus follow the paths of righteousness.”

Maimonides calls the Mezuza — along with the Tefilin and the Tsitsit — an “angel of protection,” because it protects us from the most dangerous threat: forgetting our mission in life.
HaRambam concludes: “These are the angels that prevent a person from sinning, as it is written [Tehilim 34:8]: ‘The angel of God [these three Mitsvot] is around those who fear Him, protecting them.'”

In Tractate Ta’anit, 23a, the Sages describe, through a real-life example, the conditions a person must have for their Tefilot (prayers) to be heard. Around the year 100 CE, there lived in Israel a very special man named Abba Hilkiya, who was the grandson of the famous Honi haMe’agel. Abba Hilkiya was famous because his prayers were always received by God.

During a year of severe drought, the prestigious Sages of Israel, the Tannaim, sent a delegation of two Rabbis to see Abba Hilkiya and ask him to pray for rain. Abba Hilkiya was very poor and worked in the fields. When the Rabbis encountered him, they greeted him, but to their surprise, Hilkiya did not respond to their greeting. The Sages also observed other extravagant behaviors: when he finished his work, he carried his tools and headed home. His outer garment, a kind of cloak or poncho, he carried folded over one of his shoulders, but instead of placing the work tools over the garment to ease the weight, he carried the heavy tools on the unprotected shoulder. Along the way, when he left the pasture and began walking along a path with thorny plants, he lifted his pants above his knees. When he arrived home, his wife came out to greet him, very well dressed and groomed. When they sat down to eat, he took out a piece of bread and divided it: he gave one piece to his wife, one piece for himself, and one piece to each of his two children. All this time, he still had not exchanged a word with the visiting Rabbis, who were astonished.

After finishing the meal, he called his wife and revealed that he knew the Sages had come to ask him to pray for rain. But, because of his extreme humility, he did not want them to attribute the rain to his prayers. Discreetly, the couple went up to the rooftop and began to pray, each one in a different corner. And as soon as they began praying, a cloud appeared on the side where his wife was praying. And it began to rain.

Abba Hilkiya came down from the rooftop and only then addressed the Sages. He said to them: “Well, as you can see, it has begun to rain. So if you came to ask me to pray, it seems it is no longer necessary.” The Rabbis said to him: “We know that you have prayed, and that it is thanks to your merit that HaShem caused the rain to fall. But before we leave, we would like to ask you some questions.” “Of course!” said Abba Hilkiya. The Sages began their questioning: “Why, when we greeted you, did you not return our greeting?” “Because I work by the hour,” he replied, “and it would not be fair to my employer for me to interrupt my work to start a conversation.” “Why didn’t you carry your tools on your garment and instead carried them on your bare shoulder?” Abba Hilkiya responded: “Because I cannot afford to buy my own cloak, and the one I use is borrowed, and if I used it to cushion the weight of the tools, it might get damaged due to my negligence.” “And why did you lift your pants instead of protecting your legs in the thorny fields?” “Because if the thorns tear my body, my body heals. But if my clothes tear, I would not have the means to replace them.” “And why was your wife so well groomed when she came out to greet you?” “Because my wife preserves her beauty exclusively for me: she knows that my eyes are only for her.” “And why did you not offer us to dine with you?” “Because I only had that piece of bread. And I did not want to falsely offer you to dine with me, knowing that you would refuse, and thus claim the credit for having invited you.” “And why did you go straight up to the rooftop?” “Because I did not want you to think that the rain came because of my merit.” “And why did the first cloud appear from your wife’s side?” “Because she has much more merit than I do. When a poor person comes to our house and asks for help, I give them a coin to buy food. But my wife always has some prepared food ready so that the poor can eat immediately and not faint from hunger.”

This is the very summarized story of Abba Hilkiya and his wife.

We thus see that, according to our Sages, there are individuals who have the gift that God listens to and answers their Tefilot.

This power does not depend on superstitions, magic, astrology, or amulets. According to our Sages, God heard this man’s prayers primarily because of his extreme honesty, integrity, and kindness. Secondly, because they did not use this “power” for their own material benefits, as they lived in extreme (and perhaps voluntary) minimalism. The Sages also highlight in this story the loyalty between Hilkiya and his wife and their constant concern for strengthening that “sacred” relationship between husband and wife. Both behaved with great simplicity, fled from fame and glory, and did not have a gram of vanity. And in the case of Abba Hilkiya’s wife, they highlight her material generosity and boundless sensitivity.

The Gemara teaches us this great lesson: there are no “tricks” or “shortcuts” for HaShem to hear and answer our Tefilot. The “segula” that matters most to HaShem, and the one that gives us the most merit for our prayers to be heard by Him, is our integrity, our humility, our Shalom Bayit, and our generosity.

These are the virtues that grant us the power to open the gates of heaven and have our prayers reach the Almighty.

Everything else is just bla bla 🙂.