Zwingli and the Swiss Reformation
Reform begins independently in Zurich
Huldrych Zwingli arrives as the people's priest at the Grossmünster in Zurich in January 1519 — the same year Luther is debating Eck at Leipzig — and immediately does something unusual: he announces he will preach through the Gospel of Matthew from the beginning, verse by verse, without the lectionary.
This is already a reform: the lectionary is the institutional church's curated selection of texts. Abandoning it for continuous exposition puts the congregation through the whole text, not the parts the church has chosen.
Zwingli has arrived at his reforming convictions independently of Luther — through humanist learning, through his own reading of scripture and the Greek New Testament, through his own wrestling with the gap between what the Bible says and what the church does. When he encounters Luther's writings in 1519 he recognizes a fellow traveler but insists he was already on the road.
Zurich becomes the first city where the Reformation wins not just popular support but legal authority: the city council endorses the reform and the Grossmünster becomes a Reformed church. The images are removed. The organs are silenced — Zwingli can play six instruments but believes music in worship distracts from the word. The mass is replaced with a simple communion service four times a year.
Simple, plain, text-centered, rationalist — the Zwinglian Reformation has a different character from the Lutheran. It will shape the Reformed tradition that Calvin inherits.
“The word of God shall take us, guide us, lead us, bear us. If we err, we shall err in the good company of the word of God.”
— Huldrych Zwingli, c. 1520s AD
“The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God shall stand forever.”
Zwingli reached the same destination as Luther by a different road, and the differences in the route produced differences in the destination that mattered.
Luther kept more of the medieval Catholic tradition — his liturgy retained ceremony, his theology retained the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Zwingli stripped more away — plainer worship, symbolic rather than physical presence in the Eucharist, more direct rationalism.
Neither man is entirely right. Neither is entirely wrong. The tension between them — between the Catholic tradition Luther wanted to reform and the clean break Zwingli wanted to make — is a permanent tension in Protestant Christianity.
How much of the tradition should be kept? How much stripped away? The question has no final answer. Each generation has to hold it honestly.
What do you keep from the tradition you received, and what do you release? And how do you decide?