Slovenia: A Trip to Jeruzalem

Jeruzalem in Slovenia, vineyards and more

High up on the hill sits the village, entwined with green vines, surrounded by gentle silence. Is this paradise on earth, the city of heavenly peace as the holy scriptures promise? Of course, the town sign leaves no doubt: Jeruzalem is written there, in black on yellow ground.

But this Jeruzalem is spelled with a “z,” and this small letter marks

the difference. Jerusalem with an “s” lies in the so-called Holy Land, it is the City of David, where Jesus died on the cross, and the Prophet Muhammad also passed through and ascended to heaven from here on his winged horse. Jerusalem is holy to Jews, Christians, and Muslims, and that is precisely where the trouble begins. From Jerusalem, the city with an “s,” only bad news comes: about war and conflict.

From Jeruzalem with a “z” no news comes at all. Hardly anyone knows this village in northern Slovenia, located 341 meters above sea level and populated by 31 inhabitants. The vines here stand in rows, the hills appearing as if they had been thoroughly combed. They glow when the sun shines, and in rainy weather veils of clouds drift mysteriously through the

valleys. Jeruzalem is the center of Slovenian winemaking, and that alone is a promise. But even viewed soberly, this Jeruzalem seems far closer to a place of longing than the glorified original.

Of course, the Slovenian Jeruzalem is also a place of legends, and the master of all myths stands in a small shop next to the church. Wine bottles, jars of honey, and all sorts of tourist trinkets are on offer here. “Our olive oil is sold as far away as Dubai,” says Raphael Pavlićić,

and he also recalls Israeli tourists posing for photos in front of the church here in Jeruzalem. International understanding is a given in this place.

Pavlićić runs the Jeruzalem tourist information office and the shop selling regional products. He is also a winemaker and local historian with his family-owned Vineyard and Farm Museum. He dates the founding of Jeruzalem to the early 13th century. “The Crusaders were on their way home from the Holy Land,” he recounts. “They rested here and found the area so beautiful that they exclaimed: Jeruzalem, Jeruzalem, this is the place for us.”

It is indeed documented that a certain Friedrich von Pettau of an old Styrian noble family donated the local hill country to the Teutonic Knights in the 13th century. The returning Crusaders had finally found a place of peace - and according to another legend they brought a copy of a painting with them from the other Jerusalem. The image of the “Sorrowful

Mother of God” now adorns the altar of the local Baroque church. And of course, this Pietà also holds a secret. For it’s not just Mary with the body of Jesus that can be seen. If you look closely, you’ll see another face in the headscarf of the Mater Dolorosa. It’s said to be the

grimace of death.

This Pietà quickly made Jeruzalem a place of pilgrimage for all those seeking Mary’s protection and mercy. The image is said to have originally stood in a tower built by the Crusaders. Then, in the 17th century, the church was built by the owners of a nearby castle in gratitude for being spared the plague.

So the centuries passed. The Turks occasionally appeared and- according to another legend - were decisively defeated by the courageous women of Jeruzalem alone. Otherwise, however, it remained mostly quiet. Jeruzalem enjoyed its tranquil, shadowy place in world events. “The people who come here feel a positive energy,” believes Raphael Pavlićić.

Viticulture and vinitourism support the residents, and Pavlićić even has an imaginative story to tell about the predominant wine variety here - Šibon, a dry white. The name, he claims, dates back to Napoleonic times when French soldiers marched through the country praising the local wine with the words: C’est si bon - loosely translated into Franco-Slovenian, That’s a Šibon!

But even this heavenly Jeruzalem isn’t spared from affliction. A few years ago, a nasty pest took hold in the vineyards. “The leaves curl up, the vines stop bearing grapes and die,” complains Raphael Pavlićić. Many winegrowers, he reports, suffered greatly. But fortunately, things have since improved. “We treated the vines with chemicals,” he says.

Perhaps the Mother of God also helped. This is Jeruzalem, after all.

Jeruzalem, May 31, 2025

Translation: Lisa Kremer