Zwingli: Zurich’s Reformer

The year is 1531, today is October 11^th. The war-hungry Zurich army is waiting on a field near Kappel. The reformer Zwingli raises his voice a last time to make sure the soldiers know what is at stake: this is about nothing less than the supremacy of the Reformed Church in Switzerland. Zwingli wants to use violence to force the Catholic towns – Lucerne, Uri, Schwyz, Obwalden, Nidwalden and Zug – to accept Reformed sermons to be held from their pulpits. However, the battle is over after less than one hour. The people of Zurich are defeated. They lost the battle and about ten percent of their citizens. And Zwingli got the worst sentence a judge could impose on an insurgent against God and the common order: he was quartered, his dead body burned, and his ashes dispersed in all four directions.

Was that God’s judgement against the Reformed cause? And was this the end of the Zurich Reformation?

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Enemy of God or Martyr?

Zwingli had died, leaving the Reformed Church without its most important thinker and most eloquent representative. As if that wasn’t enough, Zwingli’s contemporaries interpreted his military defeat and his early, brutal death as a sign of divine anger. They believed his execution to be proof that Zwingli’s doctrine was heresy.

A “good death”, during which the deceased benefited from all the means of salvation of the Church, had been of central importance since the Middle Ages: it made sure that a remorseful sinner was to enter paradise. An unexpected death was considered horrible because it deprived the deceased of their last chance to turn their fate. That’s why one often encounters statues of Saint Christopher on the façades of medieval churches; that’s why many keep a picture of Saint Christopher in their car: he offers (or offered) protection against a sudden death.

For heresiarchs, on the other hand, God had a sudden and extremely cruel death in mind – at least that’s what people believed at that time: for example, to be quartered like Zwingli was, or – legend has it that this is how the heresiarch Arius died – to burst open on the toilet. In the 16^th century, the way someone died was considered an indicator as to whether that person had found favour in God’s eyes or not.

After all, there is a reason why so many (Protestant) depictions show how Luther devoutly died in his bed. Luther followed the spirit of his time and considered Zwingli’s death to be a divine sentence: “When I was in Coburg these comments about adversaries taught me the meaning of the words in the Decalogue, ‘I the Lord your God am a jealous God.’ It [the judgement of God] is not so much a cruel punishment of adversaries as it is a necessary defence of ourselves. They say that Zwingli recently died thus; if his error had prevailed, we would have perished, and our church with us. It was a judgment of God. That [the people of Zurich] was always a proud people. The others, the papists, will probably also be dealt with by our Lord God.” 

Erasmus of Rotterdam, the great humanist, was of the same opinion: the death of both lay preachers Zwingli and Oecolampad… freed us from great fear. This is a wonderful intervention of God’s hand from above. If the goddess of war had favoured them, our fate would have been sealed.”

Knowing this, we put ourselves into the shoes of the people of Zurich, who dragged themselves back to the city in despair after having been defeated in the Second War of Kappel. They had to accept that all their ambitious plans had failed. But why? Hubris? Their own sinfulness? Had they fallen from God’s grace? 

It did not take long for their doubts to vanish, and the people of Zurich came to interpret the events in favour of the Reformation. As early as in the middle of November of the same year, a new eloquent preacher explained God’s will to them (or at least what he himself and the city council believed to be God’s will). After Zwingli’s defeat, Heinrich Bullinger had had to leave his parish in Bremgarten because Reformed preachers had been replaced with Catholic ones. He went to Zurich, where – already on the first Sunday after his arrival, as a contemporary tells us – “he delivered such a powerful sermon that many had the impression that Zwingli was not death but had risen from the death like a phoenix”. As early as in December 1531, the Council of Zurich appointed the 27-year-old to be antistes, i.e. the head of the Zurich church. A smart choice. Bullinger wasn’t Zwingli. And he valued compromise over confrontation. Over the course of the 44 years in which the council of Zurich implemented Zwingli’s political ideas in collaboration with Bullinger, the city regained its reputation – although the Reformed cities of Europe were rather inspired by Geneva than by Zurich after the military defeat of the latter.

With Bullinger, the city also returned to taking pride in their reformers: exactly 50 years after Zwingli’s death, in 1581, the Zurich printer Christoph Froschauer the Younger – the son of the very Christoph Froschauer who had first put Zwingli’s theories openly into practice with the famous Affair of the Sausages – published a new edition of Zwingli’s entire work.

This complete edition was a statement: Zwingli, Zurich’s admired reformer, had not died a heretic but a martyr who sacrificed himself for the true faith. Bullinger’s successor, the antistes Rudolf Gwalther, personally ensured that the edition made Christian readers understand and appreciate Zwingli’s work. The complete edition can be interpreted as the official rehabilitation of Zwingli, to whose doctrine the city of Zurich proudly professed.

But who was Huldrych Zwingli? And why were and are his writings of any importance? The Zurich MoneyMuseum was able to purchase a complete copy of this edition at a sale of the Munich auction house Hartung & Hartung in spring 2021.

Who Was Huldrych Zwingli?

You can find the most important dates of the career of the great reformer in any encyclopaedia. However, it is shocking that even today most entries about Zwingli rather seem to be hagiographies than products of serious historical work. This is due to the fact that a major part of the research literature on Reformation in Switzerland was written as early as in the 19^th century. Back then, a battle of cultures was waged in Switzerland: politicians heatedly debated the relationship of the church and the state. In many cases, the ‘research literature’ produced during that time was rather intended to strengthen the political position of the author than to contribute to the understanding of Zwingli.

Zwingli was born in 1484 as the son of a wealthy public official and rural entrepreneur. His uncle on this father’s side – a dean and thus high official of the church – made sure that the intelligent boy enjoyed an excellent education. Zwingli attended schools in Basel and Bern as well as universities in Vienna and Basel. In 1506, the bishop of Konstanz ordained him priest.

In the same year, Zwingli started his first job in a parish in Glarus. There he got to know an ecclesiastical custom that he later was to denounce as simony: an ecclesiastical office did not only come with responsibility but, above all, with a steady income. That’s why wealthy clergymen often paid money to get vacant positions, to then earn the corresponding income while leaving it to their representatives to take care of the spiritual welfare of the parish. The Zurich canon Heinrich Göldi had paid the bishop of Konstanz for the parish of Glarus. But the people of Zurich, who wanted to enforce their right to elect their own priest, put Zwingli up as a rival candidate. A compromise was reached: Göldi renounced his claim, but Zwingli had to pay high financial compensation. The compensation was paid by the people of Glarus, i.e. Zwingli became indebted to them. An interesting concept that might explain why Zwingli was a keen supporter of Swiss mercenaries during these years and made so much money from it. 

Zwingli and Swiss Mercenaries

In the 16^th century, mercenaries dominated the war industry. It was an excellent business: officers, most of them members of petty nobility or later-born sons of the upper class, gathered troops and rented them out to whoever was willing to pay the most. You have to understand that these officers acted like entrepreneurs. They acquired superfluous sons of peasant’s families who did not see a future in their home and negotiated with clients on behalf of the troop. Thus, it was no surprise that the officers gained most from this business and that they, who had excellent connections to the ruling class, were able to get their way with the highest members of society.

To avoid the experience of fellow citizens fighting against each other on the battlefield, which would have been detrimental for the country, the question of which side the troops were to fight for was decided by vote – held by an assembly of voters in Glarus.

Such decisions could impact the outcome of the war, which is why many rulers paid agents to convince voters of their opinion. Zwingli, for instance, obtained 50 gulden per year from the papal side to make him represent the opinion of the Church. As an army chaplain, he participated in many campaigns himself, also in the victorious Battle of Novara and the terrible defeat of Marignano. The heavy losses suffered by the Swiss at that time brought about a political chance: Zwingli suddenly found himself on the political sidelines being a supporter of the Pope. He was not able to maintain his position in Glarus and moved to Einsiedeln, a place of pilgrimage.

Popular Belief or Superstition?

Einsiedeln Abbey was a national place of pilgrimage. Every year, crowds of pilgrims came in September on the occasion of the “Engelweihe” – an event of the founding legend of the town during which the consecration of the chapel was said to have taken place in the presence of angels and saints. To illustrate how many people came there, consider this figure: in 1466, the small stalls in front of the abbey are said to have sold about 150,000 pilgrim badges.

An excellent business! And a terrible nuisance for many devout people such as Zwingli. He became one of the most radical fighters against Catholic saint veneration.

Zwingli made use of his time in Einsiedeln to network with contemporary humanists. He contacted Erasmus of Rotterdam, positioned himself as a vehement opponent of the Swiss mercenary system – which got him the attention of Zurich because the city was looking for a new “pleban” for the Grossmünster whose sermons might prevent the people of Zurich from serving as a mercenary.

A Reformation without Luther

On 1 January 1519, Zwingli started his office at the Grossmünster. Already his first sermon did not stick to the common practice: instead of talking about the daily gospel, he explained the first passages of St Matthew’s Gospel to the citizens. And he continued this work every Sunday. One passage after the other. And when he was done with Matthew, he started with the Acts of the Apostles. Of course, Zwingli’s ideas were disputed. They deviated from traditional doctrines in many aspects.

Before the situation could escalate into a dispute, a plague broke out in the summer of 1591. One in four citizens died. Zwingli, who continued to perform his tasks as a pastor, fell sick too. Unlike many others, he survived. Zwingli was not the only one to interpret this as a sign of God. Many citizens believed that the city had been punished for its sinful life by means of the plague. Thus, it only made sense to listen to the word of the chosen one, the one who God appeared to have saved by healing him. In this way, Zwingli gained the authority to reform the Zurich Church.

At this point we don’t have to repeat all the theological details in which Zwingli’s opinion deviated from the doctrine of the Catholic Church. Why people in the 16^th century were at each other’s throats because they had different opinions on the form in which Jesus Christ was present during the Holy Communion remains a mystery to modern men anyway. However, one aspect is of crucial importance: Zwingli’s teachings justified the ruling class of Zurich to extend their control of the citizens more than ever before: by abolishing the Catholic jurisdiction of special tribunals within the city and its estates, it was possible to enforce uniform legislation in the entire Zurich territory. The right to appoint all pastors enabled the Council to control what citizens were taught by sermons. Moreover, secular officials were involved in the decisions of ecclesiastical courts, which delivered judgements on the moral conduct of their flock. This gave the Zurich authorities powers that they wouldn’t have ever dared to dream of. Of course, it was also about the grace of God. But the fact that it would come with such great gains in terms of influence and money certainly wasn’t a bad thing in the eyes of the Zurich Council.

When the Federal Diet of Switzerland recommended banning Zwingli’s teachings on 22 December 1522, the Zurich Council took the offensive: in two public disputations, the city discussed theological theories and decided for itself which doctrine to adhere to. That was revolutionary: up to that point, the Church had decided what was right and what was not. Now a secular committee – the Zurich Council – took control of theological teachings and consequently implemented them in their day-to-day politics, without showing any interest in the opinion of the ecclesiastical authorities.

Destroying the Anabaptists

The fact that all this was not exclusively about theological opinions is perfectly illustrated by the fate of the Anabaptists. They were a radical wing of the Zurich Reformed Church, who did not like that Zwingli let the Zurich Council play such a decisive role in theological questions. The Anabaptists wanted an ecclesiastical committee to take back control of matters of faith. An idea that sounds reasonable today, but it was brutally fought in Zurich in the 16^th century: with his work “Those Who Give Cause for Tumult”, Zwingli provided the Council with the moral justification to deal with the Anabaptists. The theological question whether one should baptise children or adults, was just a pretext. It helped the Council to identify those who were not willing to subject themselves to the Zurich Council in matters of faith. Their execution was decided in the Council’s resolution of 7 March 1526. 

The Reformation Divides Switzerland

At first, Zwingli was incredibly successful. In many Swiss cities, the ruling class promoted Reformers that delivered sermons that were similar to those of Zwingli. Within a couple of years, the new doctrine established itself in the most important centres in Switzerland: Basel, Bern, Biel, Geneva, Schaffhausen and St Gall joined the Reformation. In other cantons, strong groups emerged that supported the Reformation, creating a counterpart to Catholic authorities. It seemed like the question was no longer if but when the members of the Reformed groups would become strong enough to take control of the Federal Diet. Zurich hoped to gain supremacy. Nobody seemed to be able to stand a chance against its economic and military power in combination with Zwingli’s authority.

Of course, resistance came up. The Catholic cantons formed the so-called League of Five Cities in 1524. And the inhabitants of the territories under the control of the cities rose up in so-called peasant wars to voice their own claims. As a result, Zurich abolished serfdom in 1525 and granted the rural population certain rights of co-determination.

Regarding foreign politics, Zurich – because of Zwingli’s pleading – hoped to be able to crush the last Catholic resistance in the two wars of Kappel. While a bloody confrontation had been prevented by a compromise in the first war of Kappel, the second war of Kappel resulted in Zwingli’s death and put an end to Zurich’s ambitions of becoming a major power.

By means of the Second Territorial Peace of Kappel of 20 November 1531, both parties accepted the religious division of Switzerland, which was to be the status quo for 300 years. The treaty granted all cantons the right to choose whether their citizens were of Catholic or Reformed faith.

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Zwingli’s Legacy

Today, many readers will find it difficult to bury themselves in Zwingli’s work.  Reading the three volumes kept at the MoneyMuseum, this is even harder because Christoph Froschauer the Younger decided to publish Zwingli’s texts in Latin, although German versions of most of his works did exist. He did so to put Zwingli on a par with the Church Fathers, whose works had also been written in the language of Europe’s intellectuals. However, with the return of the Latin language in the theological sphere, interpreting Zwingli’s statements once again became the exclusive task of educated clergymen.

What is Zwingli’s legacy? His extensive commentaries on various books of the bible, which Zwingli translated completely even before Luther’s translation team published their version, are only of interest to some theologians today. Same is true for his main work, the Commentarius de vera et falsa religione (= Commentary on true and false religion). In this work, Zwingli summarises regarding which matters of faith the Reformed view differs from the Catholic opinion. Although I’m sure that nobody cares about the questions revolving around the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist or the universally valid number of sacraments anymore. 

However, Zwingli did have a lasting impact on our history due to one thing: in many works, Zwingli voiced his believe that it was the task of the state to force citizens to behave well if this contributed to the common good. And Zwingli considered earning God’s favour by living a godly life to be the best one could do for the common good.

Today, people may have a different opinion about that. But we still discuss how to find a compromise between the free will of the individual and the interests of society as a whole. We ask ourselves whether the state can or even should make it compulsory for its citizens to get vaccinated against Covid – it’s clear what Zwingli would say to that: the state can do anything to the individual as long as it is for the common good.

Other Things You Might Be Interested in: 

The 16^th and 17^th century were absolutely packed with religious debates. Read more about 

… what one was supposed to believe… and what one wanted to believe.

Have you ever wondered what Martin Luther really wanted to tell us? We’ve explained it here.