Have you ever felt like a place was just... too much? Like the history, the gravity, the sheer weight of everything that happened there was pressing down on you?
Herman Poppleberry here, and let me tell you, that is basically the job description for living in Jerusalem. But for some people, it goes way beyond just feeling a bit overwhelmed. It turns into something much more intense, something that actually changes who they think they are.
We are diving into a topic that hits very close to home today. Our housemate Daniel was asking us about Jerusalem Syndrome. It is this fascinating, slightly terrifying psychiatric phenomenon where visitors, and sometimes locals, suddenly believe they are figures from the Bible or even the Messiah himself.
It is one of those things that has become internet famous, as Daniel mentioned, because it sounds so cinematic. You imagine someone in a white sheet standing on a street corner in the Old City shouting prophecies. And while that does happen, the reality behind it is a lot more complex and, honestly, a lot more revealing about how our brains process sacred spaces.
It is amazing that we are at episode four hundred ninety-five and we have not done a deep dive on this yet, especially since we see the environment that triggers it every single day. I want to start with the big question Daniel raised. Why Jerusalem? Why not Rome? Why not Athens? Those cities are ancient, they are full of ruins and massive historical weight. Why does Jerusalem have its own specific syndrome while Rome just has... really good pasta and a lot of statues?
That is such a sharp distinction. And there is actually a psychological framework for this. If you look at Rome, the history there is largely imperial and architectural. You feel small because of the scale of the empire. But Jerusalem is different because it is a city of narrative and prophecy. For billions of people, Jerusalem is not just a place on a map; it is the stage for the end of the world. It is where the most important stories in their lives are supposed to reach a climax.
So, you are saying it is the difference between an imperial city and a prophetic city. In Rome, you are a spectator to history. In Jerusalem, you feel like you are a participant in a cosmic drama.
Exactly. There is this concept of the Celestial Jerusalem versus the Terrestrial Jerusalem. People spend their whole lives studying the Celestial version, the one in the scriptures, the one that is perfect and holy. Then they get off a plane, they take a bus up the hills, and they encounter the Terrestrial Jerusalem. It is crowded, it is noisy, it is dusty, and there is a lot of political tension. For some people, that gap between the two is just too wide to bridge. Their brain tries to resolve the tension by forcing the reality to match the myth, and they step into the role of a character from that myth.
That connects perfectly to that Montefiore quote Daniel mentioned. Simon Sebag Montefiore wrote this incredible biography of the city, and he talks about Jerusalem Syndrome being born out of disappointment. I find that so counterintuitive. You would think it comes from being too impressed, but he argues it is the cognitive dissonance. You expect to see King David playing a harp on a hill, and instead, you see a guy selling overpriced postcards and a traffic jam on Jaffa Road.
Right! And your brain basically says, if the city will not be holy on its own, I will make it holy. I will be the prophet this city needs. It is a defense mechanism against the mundane reality of a modern city.
But let us look at the data, Herman. Is this just something that happens to anyone who forgets their sun hat and spends too much time at the Western Wall? Because Daniel asked if you need a prior history of mental illness.
This is where the research from the late Doctor Yair Bar-El comes in. He was the director of Kfar Shaul Mental Health Center here in Jerusalem for years, and he is the one who really categorized this in a famous study published in the British Journal of Psychiatry. He broke it down into three distinct types, and that is the key to answering Daniel's question.
Okay, walk me through the types. I am guessing Type One is the most common?
Type One is basically Jerusalem Syndrome superimposed on a previous psychotic illness. These are people who already have a diagnosis, like schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. They might have already believed they were a prophet back in London or New York, and they traveled to Jerusalem specifically because that is where a prophet is supposed to be. For them, Jerusalem is the destination, not the cause.
That makes sense. It is like a magnet for people who are already struggling with their sense of reality. What about Type Two?
Type Two is more about groups. Think of cults or people with very intense, idiosyncratic religious beliefs. They might not have a clinical diagnosis of mental illness, but they are part of a subculture that is obsessed with the end times or specific biblical prophecies. They arrive in Jerusalem as a group, and the collective energy of the city triggers a sort of group hysteria. It is less about an individual identity shift and more about a collective mission.
But Type Three is the one that really captures the imagination, right? The pure Jerusalem Syndrome.
Yes, Type Three is the white whale of psychiatry. These are people with no prior history of mental illness. They are stable, they have jobs, they have families. They arrive as normal tourists, and within two or three days, they have a complete psychotic break. It is temporary, but it is intense.
That is the part that is truly terrifying. The idea that a perfectly healthy person can just... snap because of the atmosphere of a city. How many people are we actually talking about here? Is it a massive public health crisis?
Not at all. And this is where we need to be careful with the internet fame Daniel mentioned. The actual number of Type Three cases is incredibly small. In Bar-El's original thirteen-year study, out of over twelve hundred tourists referred to the clinic, only forty-two met the criteria for Type Three. That is an average of only about three or four people per year. Out of millions of tourists, that is a tiny fraction. But because the symptoms are so colorful, they get all the headlines.
What does it actually look like when it starts? If I am walking around the Old City with a friend, what are the red flags?
It usually follows a very specific seven-step progression. It starts with anxiety and agitation. The person might start wanting to go off on their own, away from their tour group or family. Then they get an obsession with purity. They might start washing themselves obsessively or cutting their nails and hair in a ritualistic way.
Like a ritual cleansing?
Exactly. Step four is the robe. This is the classic symptom. They will take the white linens from their hotel room, often a bedsheet or a towel, and fashion it into a toga-like garment. It has to be white. It has to look biblical. After the costume change, they usually start singing hymns or shouting Bible verses. Step six is a trek to one of the holy sites, like the Western Wall or the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. And the final step is delivering a sermon.
It is interesting that the messages are almost always positive or at least morally urgent. You do not hear many people getting Jerusalem Syndrome and preaching about, I do not know, lower taxes or better urban planning. It is always the big, cosmic stuff.
Well, if you think you are John the Baptist, you are probably not going to worry about the bus schedule. But to Daniel's point about whether it affects locals, the answer is yes, but differently. Locals almost always fall into Type One. They live here, so the shock of the city is not there for them. If a local starts believing they are King David, it is usually part of a long-term chronic condition. The sudden onset Type Three is almost exclusively a tourist phenomenon.
Why is that? Is it just the lack of familiarity?
It is the pilgrim's journey aspect. If you live here, Jerusalem is where you buy your groceries and pay your bills. It is demystified. But if you have spent your whole life dreaming of this place, the psychological pressure of finally being here is immense. It is like a spring that has been wound up for forty years and finally snaps when you see the Golden Gate.
I wonder if there is a biological component to this too. You have the heat, the dehydration, the jet lag, and the intense emotional stress of a pilgrimage. That is a perfect storm for a temporary psychotic break. We have talked about how the brain handles stress in past episodes, and this seems like an extreme version of that.
Absolutely. There is a reason it often happens on the third or fourth day of a trip. That is usually when the physical exhaustion of travel hits its peak. Your prefrontal cortex is tired, your defenses are down, and suddenly the Celestial Jerusalem starts looking a lot more real than the actual street you are standing on.
I want to go back to the comparison with other cities. Daniel mentioned Rome and Athens. There is actually something called Stendhal Syndrome, which is associated with Florence. People get overwhelmed by the beauty of the art and faint or have hallucinations. And then there is Paris Syndrome, which famously affects Japanese tourists who are so disappointed that Paris is not the romantic fairy tale they imagined that they have a breakdown.
Those are great parallels! But Jerusalem Syndrome is unique because of the identity shift. In Florence, you are overwhelmed by the art out there. In Jerusalem, the madness is in here. You do not just look at the art; you become the art. You become the figure. It is an internalizing of the city's history.
It is also worth noting that it is not just Christians who get this. It affects Jews and Muslims too, though the characters they adopt are different. A Jewish person might believe they are the Prophet Elijah or the Messiah. A Muslim visitor might believe they are a figure from Islamic eschatology. The syndrome is culturally sensitive. Your brain picks the hero that fits your own tradition.
That is a crucial point. It proves that this is not some magic in the air; it is a reaction between a specific brain and a specific cultural environment. If you took someone who had never heard of the Bible and put them in Jerusalem, they would probably just think it is a crowded, interesting old city. They would not start wearing a bedsheet. You need the narrative software pre-installed for the city to trigger the bug.
So, what happens when the police find someone in a bedsheet at the Western Wall? Daniel asked about the treatment and recovery. I assume they do not just throw them in jail.
No, the Jerusalem police are actually very well-trained for this. They deal with it so often that they can spot a Type Three case from a block away. They are usually very gentle. They do not argue with the person. If someone says they are Jesus, the police do not say, No you are not. They say, Okay, Jesus, let us go somewhere quiet where we can talk.
That is such a fascinating bit of specialized policing. They have to be part-time psychiatrists.
They really do. They usually take the person to Kfar Shaul, which is the mental health center I mentioned earlier. It is actually located on the site of an old village, and it is a very calm, green environment. The treatment for the pure Type Three cases is surprisingly simple: they get them out of the Old City.
Just physical distance?
Distance and normalcy. They give them some fluids, maybe a mild sedative to help them sleep, and they encourage them to talk to their family back home. Once they hear their spouse's voice or talk about their job back in Ohio, the Terrestrial reality starts to reassert itself. The Celestial image fades.
Do they use antipsychotics?
For Type One and Type Two, yes, because those are underlying conditions. But for the pure Type Three, doctors often avoid heavy medication. They find that once the person is out of the sacred zone of the city, the symptoms usually vanish within five to seven days.
And then what? Do they just go back to their tour group and finish the holiday? Sorry I missed the bus yesterday, I thought I was John the Baptist, but I am back now. Let us go see the Dead Sea.
Actually, most of them are incredibly embarrassed. There is a huge amount of shame involved. They remember everything they said and did. They remember shouting on the street corner. They remember the bedsheet. Once the psychosis clears, they usually just want to go home immediately. They do not want to see another church or synagogue for a very long time.
I can imagine. It is like the ultimate what happens in Vegas moment, except it is what happens in Jerusalem and it involves your eternal soul.
The recovery rate for Type Three is actually one hundred percent. They go back to their normal lives and they never have another episode. It is a completely isolated incident triggered by a specific place at a specific time.
That is actually quite hopeful. It means the brain is resilient. It can take a massive detour into another identity and then find its way back. But it makes me wonder about the locals Daniel mentioned. If you live here, you are constantly bathed in this intensity. Does it affect our collective psyche even if we do not end up in Kfar Shaul?
I think it does. You see it in the politics, the way people talk about the city, the sense that every small event here has global significance. We all have a tiny bit of Jerusalem Syndrome just by living here. We all feel the weight of the narrative. We just do not all wear bedsheets to express it.
It is like a low-grade fever that everyone in the city shares.
That is a perfect way to put it. And if you are enjoying our deep dives into the weirdness of our home city, we would really appreciate it if you could leave us a review on your podcast app or Spotify. It genuinely helps other people find the show and join our little community.
It really does. And you can always find our full archive of nearly five hundred episodes at myweirdprompts dot com. We have covered everything from urbanism in Vienna to the way our brains process fear, and you can search the whole feed there.
Before we wrap up, I want to touch on one more thing Daniel asked about. He mentioned the idea of people thinking they are King David or Jesus, but is it ever... modern figures? Like, does anyone ever think they are a modern political figure or a celebrity?
That is a great question. From what I have read, it is almost always biblical or ancient figures. You do not see people having a breakdown in Jerusalem and thinking they are Taylor Swift or Elon Musk.
Exactly. And that goes back to what we said about the software. The city triggers a specific set of archetypes that are buried deep in our cultural consciousness. It is like the city has a specific frequency, and it only vibrates with the ancient stories.
It is also interesting that the Messiah role is so common. There is something about Jerusalem that makes people feel like they have a mission to save the world. It is a city that demands a solution. Everyone who comes here feels like they have the answer to the city's problems. For some, that answer just happens to be that they are the Savior.
It is the ultimate expression of the Main Character Syndrome we see in modern culture, but amplified by three thousand years of history.
So, what is the takeaway for our listeners? If you are planning a trip to Jerusalem, should you be worried?
Not at all. Just drink plenty of water, get some sleep, and maybe stay in a hotel that has very heavy bedsheets that are hard to turn into robes.
Good practical advice. And if you do start feeling the urge to preach on a street corner, maybe just start a podcast instead. It is a lot more socially acceptable in twenty twenty-six.
Speak for yourself, Corn. Some days I think this podcast is my holy mission.
Easy there, Herman. Let us get you some water and a nap before you start looking at the laundry.
Fair enough. This has been a fascinating one. Thanks to Daniel for sending it in. It is always interesting to look at the city we live in through a psychiatric lens.
It really is. Thanks for listening to My Weird Prompts. We are on Spotify and at myweirdprompts dot com. We will be back next week with another episode as we crawl toward our big five hundredth show.
Until then, stay grounded.
And keep your bedsheets on your bed. See ya!
Bye everyone!
One last thing, Herman. Did you know there is a version of this for people who visit Mecca? It is sometimes called Mecca Syndrome, though it is much less studied in Western literature. It involves similar feelings of overwhelming spiritual responsibility.
That makes sense. Any place with that much concentrated spiritual energy is going to have similar effects. It is a human phenomenon, not just a Jerusalem one. We are wired for story, and sometimes the story just takes over.
A perfect note to end on. See you next time.
See ya.
