The rabbis taught that Jerusalem was not like other cities. Ten laws applied to her alone, each one a small clue to her strange status.
A mortgaged house there was never permanently alienated from its original owner. The city never had to behead a heifer to atone for an unproved murder (Deuteronomy 21:1-9). She could never be declared a ir ha-nidachat, a condemned city (Deuteronomy 13:12). No appearance of plague in a house rendered it unclean, because the verse speaks of “your possession” (Leviticus 14:34), and Jerusalem had never been portioned among the tribes.
Six other rules governed daily life. No projecting cornices or balconies. No limekilns. No refuse heaps. No gardens or orchards, except certain flower gardens preserved from the days of the prophets. No cocks reared — the rabbis feared their scratching would uncover buried impurities. And finally: no corpse was allowed to remain overnight inside the walls. The funeral had to take place on the day of death.
The common thread is clear. Jerusalem belonged to all Israel, not to any one tribe. Nothing could contaminate her, and nothing could take root in her that might later have to be uprooted. She was held in readiness, always.