Anyone could be Jesus. Yes, even you!

“Hallo! My name is Carlos*” introduced himself a bright young man after Samira entered her dorm room at Abraham Hostel in Jerusalem for the first time.

"Hi, I'm Samira" said she.

"So, my name is Carlos, but really, I am Jesus"

Whoa, how's that for an acquaintance, Samira made a small inward jump. On the outside, she kept her cool. She's used to eccentric individuals; she worked in fashion industry for many years after all.

He seemed nice and friendly, so Samira continued to acquaint herself with him. I'm sure as hell she was intrigued. The Messiah business was no joke, or sassy pick-up line, it turned out. Carlos, or "Jesus" truly believed that it was his mission act as the hand of God and (try to) redeem the stray (again) and sinful (always) human race. He'd been in the Holy City for three weeks up to that point, performing purifying rituals and waiting for the God-appointed day to announce his son's second coming. Set ablaze, the infidel Jerusalem was to crumble and fall. And it was amidst the debris, that Carlos cum the Messiah was to be revealed; to lead the petrified flock towards purer, simpler future, governed by love and devoid of grief.

But she did go to dinner with him.

Despite that unusual kink of his, Carlos was no wall-jumping raving loony; no half-baked cookie. His speech was coherent. He has a comely face, adorned by a beard that he'd grown long. His sense of humour remained unscathed. He was blessed with a healthy appetite for food, although he did refrain from alcohol and grapes. And last but not least, he proved not entirely resistant to Samira's womanly charms.

"You drive me absolutely bonkers" he said to her "But right now the timing isn't right to pursue a new girlfriend".

Samira didn't despair.

The Big Day was approaching fast.

"Would you like to come to the (Wailing) Wall with me tonight, to watch Jerusalem burn and be rebuilt by God's will?" he offered generously to my friend.

"Sure" answered Samira. Off they went. Alas, Armageddon didn't hit. Not a single burning leaf was to be sighted in the immediate surroundings, not to mention burning bush. Nothing, but the most ordinary comings and going of the HaKotel HaMa'aravi - land. The evening stretched interminably like Negev Desert and Samira grew weary.

"Stay a bit longer" pleaded "Jesus" - "I know it will happen tonight. You and I will rebuild Jerusalem together"

But she had to go. She had already made plans to celebrate her last night in Jerusalem with a friend, by having lambchops and wine.

She saw him at the hostel later on. Still no miracle. "Jesus" returned deflated but still hopeful. He threated he was going to visit the Western Wall the day after. Maybe the exact date of his appointment with God had slipped through the cracks in his mind, due all excitement. Or maybe God himself had changed his plan ever so slightly. Unfortunately time wasn't on Carlos' side. His flight back to Miami was leaving in a couple of days.

* * *

It’s the first time I have heard of such phenomenon, but apparently, the malady called Jerusalem Syndrome is no joke. Affected tourists have been found wandering in the Judean desert wrapped in hotel bed sheets or crouched at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, waiting to birth the infant Jesus.

The Jerusalem Syndrome was first clinically identified by Dr. Yair Bar El, former director of the Kfar ShaulPsychiatric Hospital and currently district psychiatrist for the Ministry of Health. Bar El studied hundreds of tourists who were referred to Kfar Shaul for treatment between 1979 and 1993. On the basis of his work with these visitors, who had been declared temporarily insane, he reached some highly interesting conclusions.

The clinical picture that emerges usually consists of the same symptoms. It begins with general anxiety and nervousness, and then the tourist feels an imperative need to visit the holy places. First, he undertakes a series of purification rituals, like shaving all his body hair, cutting his nails and washing himself over and over before he dons white clothes. Most often, he swathes himself in the white sheets from his hotel room. Then he begins to cry or to sing Biblical or religious songs in a very loud voice. The next step is an actual visit to the holy places, most often from the life of Jesus. The afflicted tourist begins to deliver a sermon, demanding that humanity become calmer, purer, and less materialistic.

No one is certain about exactly what causes Jerusalem Syndrome. Perhaps it's jarring for a serious Bible student to arrive in modern-day Israel where, instead of prophets in sandals, he hears businessmen discussing profits on cell phones. Or maybe it's the fact that Jerusalem has always been a magnet for messianic messages, and visitors get carried away.

Perhaps it’s not too far fetched to suggest that before your next planned visit to Jerusalem, you might want to take along the phone number for your favourite shrink back home.

More info http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/History/jersynd.html

*not his real name