Turicum
The Writings of Huldrych Zwingli

Christianae Fidei (1531)

by Huldrych Zwingli

Historical Context

Zwingli wrote Christianae Fidei in 1531 as both a theological testament and a diplomatic appeal, composed in Latin and addressed to King Francis I of France. His immediate aim was to offer a clear, comprehensive, and persuasive account of evangelical (i.e., Reformed) doctrine to defend it against accusations of heresy and sedition—particularly those leveled by Roman Catholic opponents and by those who conflated Zwingli’s views with the radicalism of the Anabaptists. In a time of mounting political and theological tension, the treatise sought to present Reformed Christianity as biblically grounded, rational, peaceable, and worthy of royal protection. The situation for the Swiss was extremely precarious. Zwingli’s influence in the cities of the southern German Empire had been extensive, but the conflict with Luther over the Lord’s Supper had been extremely damaging. The exclusion of the Swiss from the discussions at Augsburg had left them isolated and vulnerable. Within the Swiss Confederation the prospects for war with the Catholic Confederates was great. The First Kappel War had ended with Reformed Confederates in a strong position but Zwingli was deeply disappointed by why what he saw as too much compromise. In this volatile context, Zwingli hoped to win external allies for the Reformation—particularly the French king, who despite persecuting Protestants at home, was not entirely unsympathetic to anti-imperial and humanist reform currents.

Apologetic Purpose

Zwingli’s Christianae Fidei was meant to explain, clarify, and defend Reformed theology before a European audience. His confession (Fideo ratio) prepared for Charles V at Augsburg in 1530 had been rejected and the Swiss Reformed were excluded. Writing in learned and classical Latin, he sought to demonstrate to Francis I that the Reformation in Switzerland was not a chaotic revolution or a threat to civil order but a biblically grounded return to Christian truth. He hoped to correct misconceptions—especially the belief that Reformed preachers denied all ecclesiastical discipline or civil obedience, or that they promoted anarchic doctrines like those of the Anabaptists. Zwingli emphasized that evangelical faith respects magistrates, upholds oaths, promotes morality, and seeks peace.

Theological Testament

The treatise was also a personal and theological legacy. Zwingli likely sensed that his position was becoming more precarious, and indeed, he would die in battle later that same year at Kappel. Christianae Fidei thus functions as a summation of his theology: it outlines doctrines of faith, justification, Christology, the sacraments (especially the Eucharist), the Church, and Christian ethics. It reflects both polemical urgency and pastoral care, as he distinguishes Reformed faith from both Roman Catholicism and radical sectarianism.

Theological Overview

At the heart of Zwingli’s theological argument is the centrality of faith (fides), understood as trust in the divine promises given through Jesus Christ. Faith is not simply intellectual assent or sacramental participation but a deep, inward reliance on God’s mercy revealed in Christ. According to Zwingli, this faith alone justifies the sinner—not works, merits, or ecclesiastical rites. In Christianae Fidei, he underscores that salvation is a divine gift grounded in Christ’s atoning sacrifice and accessed solely through faith, itself a gift of the Holy Spirit. Thus, Zwingli affirms the Protestant doctrine of justification by faith alone, while integrating it into a broader anthropology that emphasizes divine sovereignty and human dependence.

Zwingli’s Christology also figures prominently. He upholds both the full divinity and true humanity of Christ, insisting that the incarnate Son shares all human properties except sin. This incarnational realism supports his strong opposition to the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation and the Lutheran idea of the real, bodily presence of Christ in the Eucharist. For Zwingli, Christ’s body is located “at the right hand of the Father” and is not “ubiquitous” in the elements. Consequently, the Eucharist is not a repetition of Christ’s sacrifice nor a miracle of transformation, but a commemorative and spiritual feast wherein the believer, through faith, feeds on Christ’s benefits.

This leads to one of the treatise’s most important theological contributions: its sacramental theology. Zwingli distinguishes sharply between the sign (the bread and wine) and the thing signified (the body and blood of Christ). He argues that the sacraments are symbolic actions that seal and declare God’s promises but do not effect grace in themselves. Faith is the means by which the believer receives what the sacrament signifies. Thus, the Lord’s Supper becomes a communal affirmation of faith, an aid to the senses, and a spiritual communion, rather than a mystical transformation or material offering.

Zwingli also devotes considerable attention to ecclesiology and ethics. He defends the legitimacy of civil authority as instituted by God, rejecting both papal supremacy and Anabaptist separatism. The true Church, for Zwingli, consists of the elect who trust in Christ and demonstrate their faith through godly living. Though works do not justify, they follow necessarily from genuine faith.

In Christianae Fidei, then, Zwingli offers a coherent theological vision: one rooted in the sovereignty of God, the sufficiency of Scripture, and the spiritual nature of Christian worship, opposed equally to Roman Catholic sacerdotalism and radical antinomianism.

Christianae Fidei

1531

Contents

Brief and Clear Exposition of the Christian Faith (1531)

Preface by Huldrych Zwingli to His Exposition of the Faith Addressed to the Most Christian King

To the Most Christian King of the French, Francis:

Grace and peace from God the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.

Of all the things that arise in this turbulent age, nothing spreads more quickly or more successfully than unhappy falsehood, most pious King. Perhaps this is because the evil author of all lies—the devil—always tries to choke out the best seed while it is still in the grass, as the parable tells us [cf. Matthew 13:24ff]. Or perhaps it is because the heavenly cultivator of souls sharpens and strengthens virtue and faith through vice and treachery. It is much like the Spartans who, after conquering a certain town with much sweat and blood, forbade its complete destruction so they might always have a place to train their soldiers, as on a whetstone or stake.

In the same way, the Lord our God permits us to be attacked and tested by astonishing means, so that we may prove ourselves worthy. For how can anyone become brave or temperate unless surrounded by danger or immersed in the abundance of luxury? So too the truth, which has only just begun to lift its head, becomes brighter and rises higher by contrast with lies. Since it is assailed on every side, and every venomous dart is hurled at it, it is compelled to shake itself free, to wipe off the filth, and to defend its limbs. And thus it happens that the deceit of lies is exposed, while the radiant face of truth is ever more clearly revealed and brought into the light.

But I will stop my preface here.

I am filled with fear that your Majesty’s clemency might be swayed more by the slanders of certain treacherous men than by what is true—though I know that the more deceitful they are, the more likely they are not simply to report the truth falsely, but to tear it to shreds before others. They accuse us with a flood of false labels, claiming we trample religion underfoot and despise the sacred office and majesty of kings and magistrates.

Let your royal justice, I pray, judge how true these accusations are—especially once you have heard us explain, as best we can, the sources of our faith, the customs and laws of our churches, and the deep reverence we hold for princes.

For indeed, nothing is more natural for a person than to explain his own faith.

For faith, according to the apostle’s definition, is that power of the soul—that firmness and certainty—by which one unshakably trusts in the invisible God [cf. Hebrews 11:1]. Who, then, could be so dull or slow-witted as not to know whether or not he trusts in something—especially since faith is the daughter of truth? Indeed, one trusts only in what one knows to be absolutely true, and only God is truthful [cf. Romans 3:4]. And if a person recognizes and feels this within himself, how could he not be able to express that trust in a few words?

This, then, is how we think about God and divine matters.

[Concerning God and His Worship]

Everything that exists is either created or uncreated. There is one and only one uncreated being: God. For there can only be one uncreated being. If there were more than one, there would be multiple eternal beings. But uncreatedness and eternity are bound together: each implies the other. And if there were multiple eternal beings, then there would also be multiple infinite beings. But eternity and infinity likewise go together: whatever is eternal must also be infinite, and whatever is infinite must also be eternal. Since there can only be one infinite being—because as soon as we imagine two infinite substances, neither is truly infinite—it follows clearly that the uncreated, eternal, infinite being is one and only one: God.

From this flows the origin, source, and foundation of the first article of our faith, namely when we say:

“I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.”

By this, we declare and affirm that our faith is infallible, because it rests firmly in the one and only Creator.

Peoples and the ungodly who trust in created things must admit that their faith or opinion could be mistaken, since it is placed in created things. But those who trust in the Creator and the source of all things—who Himself never began to exist but brought everything else into being—can never be proven wrong. It is evident, then, that no created thing can serve as the proper object or foundation of unshakable and certain faith. Whatever has come into being once did not exist. And if it did not exist, how could anyone have trusted in something that was not yet there? Therefore, created things cannot be the natural object or foundation of faith. Only the eternal, infinite, and uncreated good is the true foundation of faith.

All confidence, then, is misplaced that is foolishly invested by some in even the holiest of creatures or the most sacred of sacraments. The one in whom we place infallible trust must be God. For if we are to trust in a creature, then that creature must be God. If we are to trust in a sacrament, then the sacrament must be God—so not only the Eucharist, but also baptism and the laying on of hands would have to be divine. How absurd such notions are to learned ears—not only pious ones—can be judged by all who possess understanding.

Therefore, if theologians desire to reach the truth, we will gladly offer them this lamp of clarity. When they say that creatures should be used, but God alone should be enjoyed, they are saying the same thing we are—if only they would not repeat their own words so thoughtlessly. For if God alone is to be enjoyed, then He alone must also be trusted. For we place our trust in the one we enjoy—not in what we merely use.

From this, most gracious King, you can clearly see that we do not, as some accuse us, dishonor the saints or reject the sacraments. Rather, we preserve them in their rightful place and dignity, so that no one abuses them. We do not insult the Virgin Mother of God by refusing her latreia (divine worship), but rather honor her by refusing to attribute to her the majesty and power that belongs to the Creator alone. Even she herself would never tolerate a worshiper.

Piety is always of one kind, born from the one and same Spirit, and the same in all people. It cannot even be imagined that any creature could be both truly pious and willing to receive divine honors. Thus the Virgin Mother of God, the higher she is raised above all other creatures and the more devout she is toward her Son, God, the less would she tolerate being worshiped as divine.

It is the madness of wicked men and demons to accept divine honors for themselves. The idols of the demons and the arrogance of Herod bear witness to this: the former deceived the world with their false cults, and the latter—because he did not reject the divine honor attributed to him—was struck down by a disease of worms, to teach him to acknowledge human frailty [Acts 12:23].

We venerate and honor the sacraments as signs and symbols of sacred realities—not as if they are the very things they signify. Who could be so unskilled as to claim that a sign is the thing it represents? For example, if the word monkey written here were taken as an actual monkey, then merely reading the word would place a real animal before your Majesty’s eyes! So too, the sacraments are signs of real things—things that truly and naturally happened in the past. These they represent, recall, and symbolically set before our eyes.

I ask you sincerely, O King, to understand me rightly: Christ, by His death, atoned for our sins. The Eucharist is a commemoration of that event, just as He Himself said, “Do this in remembrance of me” [Luke 22:19]. By this commemoration, all the benefits God has granted us through His Son are brought to remembrance.

Furthermore, in the very symbols—namely, the bread and the wine—Christ is presented as if visibly before us. So He is not only heard, but seen and tasted as well, by those who already hold Him present in the heart and rejoice in Him there.

This, then, is the proper and true reverence we teach for both the saints and the sacraments: the very reverence that Christ Himself taught and handed down. “If you are children of Abraham,” He said, “then do the works of Abraham” [John 8:39]. So the saints and holy ones are examples we must imitate. If a prophet or saint delivered divine teaching like water from a reed, let us receive what was given and passed down by the Spirit with the same reverence with which they received and delivered it. If their holy lives adorned the religion they taught, let us follow in their footsteps—being pious, holy, and innocent, as they were.

Concerning baptism, Christ says: “Baptize them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit” [Matthew 28:19]. Concerning the Eucharist: “Do this in remembrance of me” [Luke 22:19]. And through the mouth of Paul: “We, though many, are one bread and one body” [1 Corinthians 10:17].

In none of this do we find that saints or sacraments possess the power and grace that belong to God alone. Since God has never granted to any created thing the divine authority we sometimes wrongly attribute to them, it follows clearly that it is an error to teach that saints or sacraments forgive sins or bestow spiritual blessings. Who forgives sins except God alone? And from whom do all good gifts come, as the apostle James says, but from the Father of lights and of all goodness? [cf. James 1:17]

We therefore teach that the sacraments should be honored as sacred signs that point to the holiest of realities—both to what has been accomplished and to what we ourselves must do and embody. Baptism signifies both that Christ has cleansed us with His blood, and that we, as Paul teaches [cf. Romans 6:4ff], must put on Christ—that is, we must live according to His pattern. Likewise, the Eucharist signifies not only all the blessings we have received through Christ by divine generosity, but also that we, in gratitude, must embrace our brothers and sisters in the same love with which Christ accepted, cared for, and blessed us.

As for the question of whether the natural body of Christ is eaten in the Eucharist, that will be treated more fully in the following sections.

To sum up: this is the foundation of our religion—that we acknowledge God to be the one who is uncreated, the Creator of all things. He alone possesses all things and freely bestows them. And it is precisely this foundation of faith that is overthrown whenever someone attributes to a creature what belongs to the Creator alone. For in the creed we confess that our faith is in the Creator. Therefore, it is not possible that any created thing could be the object of true faith.

We believe further: once we recognize that God is the source of all things and their Creator, it cannot be the case that anything existed before Him or alongside Him that did not come from Him. For if something existed that was not from Him, then He would not be infinite—He would not extend into that other thing’s domain, since it would lie outside Him.

Thus, when we see in Scripture that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are all called God, we understand that they are not created beings, nor different gods, but one God: one essence (ousia), one existence, one power and might, one knowledge and providence, one goodness and love. These are three names, or persons, but each and all are one and the same God.

We know that God is by nature good—for whatever exists, has a nature. And what is good is what is gentle and just. Take justice away from gentleness, and it is no longer gentleness but mere negligence or fear. On the other hand, if justice is not tempered by goodness or fairness, it becomes nothing but harshness and violence.

Therefore, when we confess that God is by nature good, we are also confessing that He is gracious, kind, generous, holy, just, and unchanging. And since He is just, it necessarily follows that He must hate all association with wickedness. From this it is clear that we, poor mortals—no longer simply sinful, but fully steeped in sin—must despair of friendship or fellowship with Him.

Yet, because He is also good, it equally follows that He moderates all His purposes and actions with fairness and mercy.

This is the source and reason why He clothed His only-begotten Son in human flesh: so that He might not only show but actually give to the whole world these two great gifts—redemption and renewal. Since God’s goodness—meaning His justice and mercy—is sacred, that is, firm and unchanging, His justice demanded atonement, His mercy granted forgiveness, and forgiveness opened the way to new life.

So, the Son of the supreme King came forth, clothed in flesh, and became a sacrifice—because divinity itself cannot die. In doing so, He satisfied perfect justice and reconciled to God those who, because of their sin and guilt, dared not approach the divine presence on their own. This He did because He is merciful and gracious—a nature that could no more bear to see His own creation rejected than His justice could tolerate sin going unpunished.

Thus, justice and mercy were united: mercy provided the sacrifice, and justice accepted it for the expiation of the sins of the whole world [cf. 1 John 2:2].

But from what flock was this sacrificial victim to be chosen? From the angels? But what did angels have to do with human transgression? From among humankind? But all people were guilty, so that if any one of them had been appointed for this purpose, he could not have atoned, because he would have been flawed himself. The lamb had to be without blemish [cf. 1 Peter 1:19], meaning entirely whole, pure, and undefiled [cf. Leviticus 22:19ff]—as typified in the law.

Therefore, divine goodness gave from itself what it would bestow upon us. God clothed His own Son with the weakness of our flesh, so that we might see that His generosity—that is, His mercy—is just as boundless as His holiness and justice. For He who gives Himself—what has He held back? As the divine Paul says, “He who did not spare His own Son…” [cf. Romans 8:32].

Had He made an angel or a man the sacrificial victim, He would have been giving something outside of Himself. That would have meant there was still something greater He could give—namely, Himself—which He would then not have given. But since supreme goodness intended to bestow the supreme gift, He gave what was most precious, the highest treasure that even the heavenly ark could offer: He gave Himself.

By doing so, He left no room for the human mind—ever hungry for something greater—to even imagine that something more might be given. Otherwise, people could still ask: How could an angelic or human sacrifice be enough for all? Or how could I place unwavering trust in a creature?

So, the Son of God was given to us:

as the confirmation of God’s mercy,

as the pledge of forgiveness,

as the price of justice,

and as the pattern of life—

all to make us certain of God’s grace and to deliver us the law of holy living.

Who could adequately express the liberality of this divine goodness and generosity? We deserved to be disowned, and He prepares our adoption. We had destroyed the path of life, and He restores us to it. Thus, divine goodness has both redeemed and renewed us: so that, in response to mercy, we would be grateful; in response to the atoning sacrifice, we would become just and innocent.

On Christ the Lord

We believe and teach that this Son of God—true God from God—assumed human nature in such a way that His divine nature was neither lost nor transformed into humanity. Rather, both natures are truly, properly, and naturally united in Him, so that, according to His divine nature, He lacks nothing that would prevent Him from being fully, properly, and naturally God; and according to His human nature, He has not been so absorbed into the divine that He ceases to be fully, properly, and naturally man—except that He lacks the inclination to sin.

Thus, insofar as He is God, He is entirely one with the Father and the Holy Spirit, such that nothing is lacking to Him from the divine attributes, despite taking on human weakness. And insofar as He is man, He possesses everything that belongs to true and proper humanity, except for a sinful nature. His human nature has not been diminished because of its union with the divine.

From this, it follows that the attributes and actions proper to each nature shine forth in all His words and deeds. A devout mind can readily discern what belongs to which nature, though all acts are rightly said to be those of the one Christ. For example, Christ hungers [cf. Mark 11:12]—this is rightly said, since He is both God and man—but He hungers according to His human nature, not His divine. Christ heals diseases and ailments [cf. Matt. 4:23]—also true, but strictly speaking, this is a work of divine power, not human. And yet, this distinction between natures does not imply a division of persons—no more than we divide a man into two persons when we say that he thinks (a function of the soul) and sleeps (a function of the body). So too in Christ: the unity of person remains, despite the two distinct natures.

Thus, we wholly confess that God and man are one Christ—just as a human being is made of a rational soul and a physical body, as St. Athanasius taught.

He took on human nature into the unity of the hypostasis—that is, into the person of the Son of God—not as if the assumed man were a distinct person and the divine Son another, but rather that the eternal person of the Son of God took the man into His own person. This is the clear and true teaching of the saints of God.

We believe that Christ’s human nature was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary—who remained a virgin perpetually—so that the Savior and Shepherd of souls might be born of a woman, though He is from eternity Lord and God, begotten of the Father. He became a holy and spotless sacrifice, making all the sacrifices of animals upon altars smoke in vain, so that people might repent of such offerings and instead offer the sacrifice of their hearts—when they saw that God Himself had prepared and offered His own Son as a victim [cf. Hebrews 9:11ff].

We believe that Christ suffered crucifixion under Pontius Pilate. But while it was the man who felt the pain of suffering, it was not the divine nature, which—being invisible (aoratos)—is also impassible (analgētos), subject to no suffering or passion. His cry, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” [Matt. 27:46], is the voice of suffering. But the words “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” [Luke 23:34] belong to the undiminished divinity. He suffered the most shameful form of punishment to atone for our sins, leaving nothing undone in His humiliation.

If He had not truly died and been buried, who would believe that He was truly human? That is why the Apostolic Fathers added to the Creed, “He descended into hell”. This phrase was used as a periphrasis—to indicate His real death (for to be numbered among the dead is to have departed this life), and that the power of His redemption extended even to the dead. As St. Peter suggests, He preached the gospel to the spirits in prison—those from the time of Noah who believed God’s warnings while the wicked scoffed [cf. 1 Peter 3:19–20].

Conversely, if He had not truly risen, who would believe that He was truly God—if He had died and no trace of His life or power remained?

We therefore believe that the true Son of God truly died in human nature, so that we might be certain our sins are atoned for. We believe He truly rose again from the dead, so that we might be sure of eternal life. Whatever Christ is, He is for us. Whatever He does, He does on our behalf. “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that we might have life through Him” [John 3:16]. Therefore, when He rose, He rose for us—beginning our own resurrection. That is why Paul calls Him the firstfruits of those who sleep [cf. 1 Cor. 15:20]. Because He, once dead, now lives, He shows that we, though dead, also live.

To the Hebrews, resurrection means to remain, to stand, to endure. So Paul argues on both sides of the question: If Christ rose—meaning He was thought dead, but lived and took up His body again—then there is a resurrection of the dead [cf. 1 Cor. 15:20ff].

Here then, most gracious King, is the strength of the argument: Christ is ours, and all His works are ours. Otherwise, it would not logically follow that “Christ is risen, therefore we too shall rise”—any more than it would follow: “The king has the power to pardon one condemned by a judge, therefore anyone has that power.” But negatively, the logic does hold: “If Christ did not rise, then neither shall we.” For Christ rises by His own power—but we cannot rise by our own. Therefore, if Christ had not risen, neither would we. But because He has, He makes His resurrection our own and makes it universal.

This is what the saints meant when they said, “We are nourished by Christ’s body for the resurrection.” They meant simply this: that since Christ—who is entirely ours—has risen, we are thereby made certain that even when our bodies die, our souls live, and that one day we shall rise again with our very bodies.

Furthermore, we believe without hesitation that this same Christ ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. This means that we too, who immediately upon death are carried upward, shall one day also enjoy eternal bliss with our bodies. Just as Christ remains there until the appointed time when He returns to judge the world, so too the souls of the blessed dwell with Him without their bodies until the appointed judgment. At that time, we shall all be clothed again with our bodies—either for the eternal wedding feast of our Bridegroom or for the eternal torment prepared for the devil, our enemy.

Now, most gentle King, I will explain two matters which I believe are necessary here.

On Purgatory

First, since Christ did not experience the torments of hell—as St. Peter teaches in Acts 2 [cf. Acts 2:27]—but after His death ascended into heaven, we believe that we too, once freed from the body, will go there without delay, hesitation, or new torment—provided we have sincere faith. Those who have terrified already miserable people with the fires of purgatory have dared to feed their own greed rather than care for faithful souls.

First, they utterly empty and dismiss the saving work of Christ. For if Christ died for our sins—as the apostles, filled with His Spirit, taught, and as the whole logic of religion demands (since salvation depends on the grace and goodness of God)—how can anyone now claim that we must make satisfaction for ourselves? If, as Paul says, those who trust in works reject Christ, how much more do those reject and nullify Him who claim that sin must be expiated by personal suffering? If good works cannot merit salvation, but punishment supposedly can, then God’s goodness is cast into doubt—as though He delighted in affliction and rejected mercy and kindness.

Second, if Christ does not remove both the guilt and the penalty of sin, why did He become man at all? Why did He suffer? The distinction some theologians make—that we are redeemed from guilt but not from punishment—is not only baseless but an insult to God. Even human judges do not impose punishment where guilt has been absolved. So the moment God forgives guilt, He also remits punishment.

Third, since Christ Himself taught that those who believe have eternal life, and that those who trust in the One who sent Him do not come into judgment but have passed from death into life [cf. John 5:24], it is manifest that the delay and torment which papists impose on departed souls is a fabrication and fiction.

Appendix on the Eucharist and the Mass

The second matter I undertook to explain is this: that the papists have fallen away from the truth in claiming to offer Christ in the Mass for the forgiveness of sins. For Christ, having once offered Himself on the cross and then again to the Father in heaven, has already merited and obtained the remission of sins and the joy of eternal blessedness. Therefore, anyone who now claims to offer Christ to the Father does nothing more than undermine and deny Christ Himself. I will endeavor to make this point clear.

First, I ask the opponents: Who offered Christ the man when He was led to the cross? They can answer in no other way than to say: No one offered Him—He offered Himself. The prophets, Christ Himself, and His apostles all bear witness to this. “He was offered because He willed it” [Isa. 53:7]. “No one takes my life from me… I have authority to lay it down and to take it up again” [John 10:18]. “I lay down my life for my sheep” [John 10:15]; “The bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world” [John 6:51]; and “He offered Himself to God, without blemish, through the eternal Spirit” [Heb. 9:14].

So, since Christ was then offered by no one but Himself, I next ask: Is there any difference between that true self-offering unto death and the one in which the papists now claim to offer Him? If they say there is no difference, then it follows that Christ must still suffer and die when He is offered. For Scripture says: “He destroyed the one who held the power of death—that is, the devil—through His death” [Heb. 2:14]; “We were reconciled to God through the death of His Son” [Rom. 5:10]; and “Where there is a testament, the death of the testator must occur” [Heb. 9:16].

Our inheritance—the free remission of sins, as recorded in Jeremiah 31 and Hebrews 8—is a testament that required the death of Christ, the testator. Therefore, if the papists claim to offer Him now, then Christ must be dying still. For if sins are forgiven through this offering, then His death must again occur. “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness” [Heb. 9:22]; and “He died to sin once for all” [Rom. 6:10].

Thus, if the papists offer Christ for the forgiveness of sins in the same way He once offered Himself, then they must also be killing Him—for sin is not removed without death.

But if they claim there is a difference between their offering and Christ’s own, what then is that difference? They will respond, according to their custom, that Christ offered Himself really, while they now offer Him spiritually, and therefore His death was then necessary, but now—since their offering is spiritual—it is not.

To this I respond: In such a weighty matter, no word should be used ambiguously or obscurely, lest misunderstanding leads us astray. I ask, then, what they mean by the word spiritually. Do they mean by it that they offer Christ in their minds—that is, they remember, give thanks, and commemorate His sacrifice?

If that is what they mean, then we are in agreement. They differ from us not at all—but from themselves, three times over. For in truth, they do not merely recall Christ in their hearts but claim visibly to offer Him in the Mass. If, on the other hand, they mean by spiritually that they offer the Spirit of Christ, that is, the soul of Christ, then they contradict Christ’s own words: “No one takes my life from me” [John 10:18]. For Christ alone offered Himself by the command and will of the eternal Spirit—He alone delivered His soul and body unto death. No one else can offer Christ.

If they mean by spiritually that they offer Christ’s real body in some ineffable manner—so that it is a real body, yet not a physical or natural body, but one that is spiritual in a mysterious, unknown way—then they are merely constructing a web of words that cannot hold together.

For we confess that Christ’s body is truly a body: the same one before death and after the resurrection, though it has been changed from mortal to immortal, from earthly to spiritual—that is, made divine, pure, impassible, and obedient to the Spirit in all things. Yet it never ceased to be a true, natural, and real body: before the resurrection it was corruptible and frail, after the resurrection incorruptible and eternal—but always one and the same body.

Now, if they say they offer Christ’s real body in an ineffable manner, I ask: Why do they claim the manner is ineffable, when the first division of all things is between body and spirit? This division even includes God, the angels, and all spirits. “God is spirit” [John 4:24]. Since we are asking what the thing is, not how it is—as the philosophers put it—the question is first what is offered, and only then how. But since they answer incorrectly about what is offered, we must show that they answer even less rightly about how it is offered.

Yet to avoid confusing Your Majesty with obscure scholastic jargon, I will speak clearly and directly.

Refuting the Sacrifice of the Mass

I ask the papists first about the thing itself: What do you offer in the Mass for sins? They answer: The body of Christ. I ask: The real and true body? They say: Yes. I reply: Then two absurdities follow.

First: You take to yourselves a work that belongs to the Son of God alone. For He alone offered Himself. No one can offer anything greater than himself. The Old Testament priests offered animal sacrifices, which were lesser than the priests themselves—just as beasts are beneath humans. The greatest offering any person could make was to offer himself wholly to the Lord: to devote his entire life, mind, and actions to God. This is why the apostles teach us only to offer ourselves [cf. Rom. 12:1].

Thus, Christ alone can offer Himself. This is why only the high priest could enter the Holy of Holies, and only once a year—to prefigure that Christ alone atones for sins [cf. Heb. 9:7].

The second absurdity is this: If you offer Christ for sins, you are killing Him. For sins are removed only by death [cf. Heb. 9:22]. “Unless a grain of wheat dies, it bears no fruit” [John 12:24]. So, if you do not kill Him, your offering produces no fruit. If you do kill Him, then you are crucifying Christ again—who died once for all and can die no more [cf. Rom. 6:10; Heb. 9:28].

See, most prudent King, into what straits and dangers the papists allow themselves to be dragged by greed—as if into the deadly shallows of the sea. Christ alone can offer Himself. A true offering is made only when the victim is slain. Sin is abolished only when the slain sacrifice is received by God with favor. It follows, then, that no human being—not least the papists—can offer Christ. And if they could offer Him, they would also have to kill Him. But since He cannot die again, even if they wanted to kill Him—perhaps to make a profit—they could not. “For death no longer has dominion over Him” [Rom. 6:9].

These truths will become even clearer to Your Majesty when we consider the testimony of the apostles.

In Hebrews 1:3: “He is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact imprint of His nature, and He sustains all things by His powerful word. After He had made purification for sins, He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high.”

Behold, noble King, the one who purified our sins: the radiance of the eternal Sun, the image and exact likeness of God’s being—He who is being itself, and from whom all things draw their existence. He is almighty, and all things obey His word. What impudence, then, for mere men to claim they offer Him for sins, when He has already by His own offering cleansed us!

Again in Hebrews 5:5: “So also Christ did not glorify Himself to become a high priest, but it was He who said to Him, ‘You are My Son, today I have begotten You.’” What impiety and offense against God it is for any man to make himself a high priest, when even the Son of God did not presume to take this honor for Himself, but received it from the Father.

In Hebrews 7:26: “Such a high priest truly befits us—holy, blameless, unstained, separated from sinners, and exalted above the heavens.” What creature would dare to claim such honor for himself? To be the priest who abolishes sin, one must be holy and without stain

In the same place [Hebrews 7:24–25]: “But this priest of ours does not perish, but holds a perpetual priesthood; therefore He is always able to save those who come to God through Him, since He always lives to intercede for them.” What folly, then, to appoint other priests in His place—He who neither died nor departed from His office! Christ is the eternal priest and our eternal advocate before God. Why then should we prepare other advocates for ourselves? Has Christ died? Has He abandoned our cause?

Behold, most noble king, how offensive such claims are to God—how they deny Christ, who alone is priest, when men presume to make themselves priests.

Again, in the same chapter [Hebrews 7:27]: “This priest does not need to offer sacrifices daily, first for His own sins and then for those of the people. He did this once for all when He offered Himself.” We see here that Christ was offered once. What impurity, then, is it to act otherwise? When He offered Himself once for the expiation of sins—and that offering endures forever—then anyone who boasts of offering Him again does no less than someone claiming to create the world. For just as the world, once created, endures, so the redemption once secured through Christ endures eternally. The works of God are not like human works—fragile and in need of constant renewal lest they decay.

In Hebrews 8:1: “The main point in what we are saying is this: We have such a high priest, who is seated at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in heaven…” What presumption, then, to make oneself a priest or liturgist, when our only priest is the one seated at God’s right hand?

In Hebrews 9:11–12: “But when Christ came as high priest of the good things that are now already here, He went through the greater and more perfect tabernacle that is not made with hands—that is, not a part of this creation. He did not enter by means of the blood of goats and calves; but He entered the Most Holy Place once for all by His own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption.” What arrogance, then, for a sinful man to take upon himself the office of the Son of God—He who alone offered His own blood, and offered it once only, but in such abundance that the redemption He secured lasts forever. God is eternal—He who redeemed is the same who created.

Let me add one final testimony from this same epistle, which brings together everything I have said in a single, clear picture.

In Hebrews 9:24–26: “For Christ did not enter a sanctuary made with hands, a mere copy of the true one; He entered heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf. Nor did He enter heaven to offer Himself again and again, the way the high priest enters the Most Holy Place every year with blood that is not his own. Otherwise Christ would have had to suffer many times since the creation of the world. But now He has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself.”

Do you see? To be offered requires suffering. So how dull must one be not to see that where Christ is offered, He must also die? But He can die only once—so He can be offered only once. Yet that one offering purifies and sanctifies forever those destined for eternal life. He who reconciles us to the Father must be seated in heaven. Therefore, the true Church of Christ is that which possesses and obtains all things through Christ alone.

But why burden Your Majesty with further words, when it is clearer than daylight that no one can offer Christ but Christ Himself—and that He can be offered only once? For if His offering could be repeated, that would mean the first was insufficient. And if He were again offered, then He must again suffer.

It follows, then, that the papists both deny and nullify Christ.

Yet someone might object: If the early theologians—who received and handled the Christian religion more purely—often called the Eucharist a “sacrifice,” why did they do so, if it is not a real sacrifice? Especially since they spoke more wisely and elegantly than recent teachers?

I answer: The more learned and pious someone is, the less they stray from the truth, no matter how their words are phrased. Learning is like a lamp that brings clarity to speech, while true religion prevents us from accepting anything that contradicts truth, even if it sounds lofty. Religion, following the rule of St. Augustine, teaches us this: Even if you do not fully understand the words or their exact theological meaning, you can be sure that the Word of God is always consistent with itself. And if at first it seems to contradict itself, the fault lies either in our ignorance of its language or in the weakness of our faith.

So, when the early fathers call the Eucharist a sacrifice, which it cannot be literally or naturally, it is religion we must consult first.

And religion clearly teaches—this has been sufficiently shown—that there can be no priest but Christ. Not even the pope, no matter how great he may seem, can offer Christ.

This truth, grounded in true religion, is then supported by learning. For sound reasoning tells us: It is nothing new to borrow a name from the origin, cause, or meaning of a thing. Scholars call this a metonymy—that is, naming something by what it represents. Paul, for example, says: “There is a veil over their eyes when Moses is read” [2 Cor. 3:15]. There, “Moses” means the Law, the entire Old Testament—not because Moses himself is read, but because God gave the Law through Moses.

And when the lamb eaten at Passover is called the Passover, it is so named because it signifies the event, not because it is the event [cf. Ex. 12:11].

In the same way, the Eucharist was piously and wisely called a “sacrifice” by the early fathers—not because it is a sacrifice, but because it signifies the one sacrifice in which Christ, by offering Himself once for all, made perfect and forever cleansed those who are sanctified—that is, the elect of God.

But lest anyone think I have invented this interpretation, let us hear the same from Augustine, in his letter to Boniface, Epistle 23.

Augustine on the Eucharist

Augustine writes:

“We often speak in such a way that, when Easter draws near, we say: ‘Tomorrow or the next day is the Lord’s Passion,’ though He suffered so many years ago and the Passion happened only once. On Sunday we say: ‘Today the Lord rose from the dead,’ even though many years have passed since that event. No one is so foolish as to accuse us of lying when we speak this way, because we call these days by the likeness of those in which these things were done. So we say they happen on these days because of the celebration of the sacrament, not because they literally occur again. Was Christ not sacrificed once for all? And yet, in the sacrament, He is sacrificed daily—not only at Easter, but every day. And no one lies when asked whether He is sacrificed, if they say yes. For if sacraments had no likeness to the realities they signify, they would not be sacraments at all. And because of this likeness, they often take on the names of the things themselves. Just as, in a certain sense, the sacrament of Christ’s body is the body of Christ, and the sacrament of His blood is His blood, so too the sacrament of faith is faith itself.”

From these words of Augustine, Your Majesty will easily recognize that “sacrifice” or “offering” is attributed to the Eucharist in the same way that Christ’s resurrection or passion is—namely, not because they literally occur again, but because the day and rite signify and recall what happened once for all. These actions are named after the events they commemorate.

It is therefore clear that the papists are completely in error when they claim that the Mass or Eucharist is a true offering, when in reality it is nothing more than a likeness and remembrance of Christ’s one offering. It is likewise clear that those who think the sacraments or festivals cannot rightly be named after the things they signify—unless they are those things in substance—are unlearned and mistaken. So when the papists try to turn symbols into realities, they do nothing but reveal their ignorance and lack of understanding to all.

I will pass over the many other errors that the papists commit or rather cunningly invent and fabricate in the Mass: how they sell and barter it, in ways not only contrary to the sanctity of our religion, but also to basic decency. For what pagan priest ever so openly corrupted their religion for the sake of profit?

They promise the redemption of souls from purgatory, even though there is no such purgatorial fire as they imagine, and no offering reaches God except the one in which Christ sacrificed Himself on the altar of the cross. They claim that Christ’s body can be consecrated equally by a faithful priest or an impious one. They assert that the Mass is equally valid whether performed by a holy or a wicked minister. They speak so ignorantly about the body of Christ that they claim it is eaten in the very size in which it hung on the cross or lay in the manger. And this is just one of countless absurd and shameless claims they make.

And yet, they call us heretics if we do not agree with every one of their ravings. They invent astonishing lies to make our doctrine appear suspect to those who hear of it—for instance, claiming we deny that Christ is present in the Supper, that we deny His omnipotence, that we reject His words, and so on.

But you, most gracious King, receive in brief our true teaching about the body of Christ and how it is present in the Lord’s Supper.

We believe that Christ is truly present in the Supper. Indeed, we do not believe it can rightly be called the Lord’s Supper unless Christ is present. As it is written: “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am among them” [Matt. 18:20]. How much more is He present where the whole church is gathered to Him?

But that His body is eaten in the physical dimensions the papists claim is completely alien to both truth and the nature of faith. It is contrary to truth, for Christ Himself said: “I am no longer in the world” [John 17:11], and “The flesh is of no avail” [John 6:63]—meaning, flesh eaten in the manner the Jews then, and the papists now, imagine.

It is contrary to faith, because true and noble faith includes love, reverence, and holy awe. And this kind of religion recoils from a crude, fleshly eating of Christ’s body—just as no one would dare to eat the flesh of a dearly beloved son.

This is confirmed by the centurion, whose faith Christ praised above all Israel [cf. Luke 7:9]; he said with humble reverence: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof” [Luke 7:6]. Likewise, Peter, overwhelmed by holy fear, said: “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man” [Luke 5:8], shrinking from Christ’s bodily presence.

It is clear, then, that both faith and reason—that is, the truth which is the soul’s true light—and genuine religion, by which we revere and embrace God, reject the crude notion of eating Christ’s body in the carnal way the Capernaite Jews and papists describe.

As Augustine teaches, the Capernaite Jews, when they asked, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” [John 6:52] and said, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” [John 6:42], imagined that Christ was offering His body in the same way that meat is bought in the market—visible before them in shape and size. And what do the papists say differently, when they claim that Christ’s body is eaten in the same size in which He hung on the cross or lay in the tomb?

Because both truth and reason reject this idea, and because religion and faith embrace Christ far more devoutly than to desire to consume Him in this crude way, we therefore maintain:

Christ’s body is not eaten carnally or physically in the Supper as the papists claim. Rather, we believe that the true body of Christ is eaten sacramentally and spiritually by a devout, faithful, and sanctified mind—just as St. John Chrysostom also taught.

This is the brief summary—not of our own opinion, but of the very truth—concerning this controversy.

Our Liturgical Practice

I would now like to add the formula of the rite we use in celebrating the Supper, so that Your Majesty may see that we do not change Christ’s words, do not corrupt them, and do not distort them with perverse interpretations. Rather, we preserve in the Supper what ought to have been preserved in the Mass.

These elements include:

prayers,

praises,

a confession of faith,

communion with the church or with believers,

and the spiritual and sacramental partaking of the body of Christ.

In contrast, we reject everything not instituted by Christ—such as:

“We offer this for the living and the dead,”

“We offer this for the forgiveness of sins,”

and all the other claims that the papists, no less impiously than ignorantly, insist upon.

The Celebration of the Lord’s Supper in Zurich, Bern, Basel, and Other Christian Cities

What follows is the order of the service as used, in its essential substance, in Zurich, Bern, Basel, and the other cities of the Christian community:

First, a sermon is preached at length, proclaiming the benefit that God has granted us through His Son. The people are called to understand this gift and to give thanks for it.

When the sermon concludes, a table is set before the choir steps, covered with a white linen cloth. Unleavened bread is placed on the table, and wine is poured into chalices.

Then the pastor enters with two ministers. All three face the people, the pastor or bishop standing between them. They wear no garments other than those customarily worn by honorable laymen and church ministers.

The pastor then begins in a clear voice—not in Latin, but in the vernacular, so that all may understand what is being done:

Pastor: In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Ministers (on behalf of the whole church): Amen.

Pastor: Let us pray.

At this point, the congregation kneels.

Almighty and eternal God, whom all creatures rightly worship, praise, and adore as their Maker, Creator, and Father, grant to us poor sinners that we may perform this act of praise and thanksgiving, which Your only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, has instituted for us, with sincere faith—through the same Jesus Christ our Lord, Your Son, who lives and reigns with You in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God forever and ever. Amen.

The minister on the left then reads:

A reading from the First Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians, chapter 11:

“When you come together, it is not to eat the Lord’s Supper…”

and continues through

“…not discerning the body of the Lord” [1 Cor. 11:20–29].

Ministers and congregation respond: Thanks be to God.

Pastor: Glory to God in the highest.

Deacon: And on earth peace.

Subdeacon: A sound and tranquil mind to all people.

The hymn Gloria in excelsis Deo is then sung responsively by the ministers, verse by verse, while the congregation listens attentively and is previously encouraged to meditate deeply on what is being said, speaking in their hearts before God and the church.

Deacon: The Lord be with you.

Ministers: And with your spirit.

Deacon: The Gospel according to John, chapter 6.

Congregation responds: Glory to you, O Lord.

Deacon reads:

“Jesus said: Truly, truly I say to you, whoever believes in me has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna…”

and continues through

“The words I speak to you are spirit and life” [John 6:47–63].

After the reading, the minister kisses the Gospel book. Then the pastor says: Glory be to God, who, according to His Word, is pleased to forgive us all our sins.

Ministers respond: Amen.

The Creed and Exhortation

Pastor: I believe in one God.

Deacon: The Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.

Subdeacon: And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord…

The Apostles’ Creed is then recited by the ministers in alternation, aloud and in the same manner as the Gloria.

Thanksgiving and Dismissal

Pastor: Fall to your knees.

For in sitting and silently listening to the Word of the Lord, we eat and drink the sacrament of the Supper.

When all have knelt, the pastor begins:

Pastor: Praise the Lord, you servants! Praise the name of the Lord!

Deacon: Let the name of the Lord be blessed, from this time forth and forevermore.

Subdeacon: From the rising of the sun to its setting… [Ps. 113:1–3]

Thus the ministers finish this psalm [Ps. 113] responsively, verse by verse, just as the Hebrews report their ancestors once did at the table.

Then the pastor exhorts the church with these words:

Dearest brothers and sisters, remember what we have just done together in obedience to Christ’s command. By this act of thanksgiving, which we have performed in faith, we have testified that—though we are sinners—we have been cleansed by the body and blood of Christ, which He gave and shed for us, and that we have been redeemed from eternal death.

We have testified that we are brothers and sisters in Christ. Let us now prove this through love, mutual faith, and service. Let us pray to the Lord that we may so deeply hold His bitter death in our hearts that we die to sin daily and are strengthened in every virtue—by the grace and power of His Spirit—so that God’s name is sanctified in us, and our neighbor is loved and helped. May the Lord have mercy on us and bless us! May He make His face shine upon us and be gracious to us! Amen.

Then the pastor again offers a prayer of thanksgiving:

We give thanks to You, O Lord, for all Your gifts and blessings—You who live and reign, God, forever and ever. Amen.

Pastor: Go in peace.

All: Amen.

Then the congregation departs.

Justification for Reformed Liturgy

Here, most thoughtful King, you can see that—as far as substance is concerned—nothing is lacking in this celebration that the true and apostolic use of the Eucharist requires. And everything has been removed that may rightly be suspected of having been introduced for the sake of avarice.

If anyone objects that we have no right to introduce a new form of worship, even if some things in the Mass were wrong—that to do so is no different than if someone in a kingdom or city were to disregard public law and establish private statutes, thereby throwing society into rebellion, and so justly earning the name “heretic”—and further, that even errors may be tolerated for a time, just as the apostles tolerated some things until a public council ruled otherwise—let such a person consider this:

The laws of kingdoms and cities are not comparable to divine law, to the liberty of truth and faith, or to the rights of the Church. Human laws concern the regulation and order of external matters. But divine law binds the conscience in such a way that, once a person understands the will of God, they must condemn themselves if they do not assent and obey. “Through the law comes knowledge of sin” [Rom. 3:20].

And the more clearly it is perceived that something is done against the Holy Spirit, the less the conscience can tolerate any offense against its Creator. So when, by the Spirit’s teaching, we have learned that there is one offering, made by the Son of God alone—and when we have clearly shown this truth with the very first testimony of the Church, so that all may correct any errors—and when people not only continue to resist the truth but even rage against it, then no priestly power—no matter how forcefully imposed—ought to prevent anyone from defending the truth and rejecting the shameful dishonor cast upon the Son of God.

For what kind of reasoning is it that such a priest should still govern the Church, when he shows no reverence for what constitutes the Church? For the Church consists of faith in God, according to His Word. And if he does not believe God’s Word, how can he govern the Church?

Furthermore, can faith be delayed or regulated by human decision? When the Lord has said, “Whatever you wish others to do to you, do the same to them” [Matt. 7:12], can one delay obeying this law until the leaders approve? And that command concerns only human affairs. How much more serious is the offense of offering the Son of God, which is an insult to God Himself?

Finally, it is the right of the Church to believe and to live according to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, as Paul writes: “Do not quench the Spirit” [1 Thess. 5:19]. Who, once they have understood that indulgences are lies and fabrications, does not immediately reject them? Faith does not wait for another’s judgment; it stands on its own. Therefore, when faith recognizes such blasphemies against the Son of God, it knows they must not be tolerated—but abolished or fled from as soon as possible.

This is how the papist Mass was abolished among us: through abandonment and rejection. For once the people, realizing the error, turned away from it, some priests recoiled, others feared the people’s response—and so the Mass was left behind. And because it was necessary to provide something simple and Christian in its place, a new liturgy was prepared.

When it was completed, the city council summoned a public disputation between us and the Roman bishops.

Then the pastor exhorts the congregation:

Beloved brothers and sisters, we now desire to eat this bread and drink this cup according to the command and institution of our Lord Jesus Christ, who ordered this to be done in remembrance of Him, in praise, and in thanksgiving for the fact that He suffered death for us and shed His blood for the forgiveness of our sins.

Therefore, let each person examine themselves, according to Paul’s admonition, as to the confidence and certainty they place in our Lord Jesus Christ—lest anyone presume to approach as a believer who lacks true faith and so become guilty of the Lord’s death, scorning the whole church, which is His body, and sinning against it.

Therefore, kneel and pray:

Together, they pray:

All: Our Father, who art in heaven… [Matthew 6:9–13]

Ministers: Amen.

Prayer Before Communion

Then the pastor prays again:

Lord God Almighty, who by Your Spirit have joined us in the unity of faith as one body in Your Son, and who have commanded this body to praise and thank You for the grace by which You gave Your only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, to die for our sins—grant that we may fulfill this command in true faith, lest we offend You, the infallible truth, by any hypocritical pretense. Help us to live in such holiness as befits members of Your body and household, so that even unbelievers may come to recognize Your name and glory.

Keep us, Lord, from living in such a way that Your name and glory are brought into disrepute because of our sin. Lord, increase our faith—that is, our unwavering trust in You. You, who live and reign, true God, forever.

All respond: Amen.

The Words of Institution

Then the pastor continues and pronounces the words of institution:

Pastor: On the night when the Lord Jesus was betrayed, He took bread…

(At this point, the pastor takes the unleavened bread in his hands.)

…and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said: Take, eat. This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.

He then gives the bread to the ministers around the table, who receive it with reverence, divide it among themselves, and eat it.

Pastor continues:

In the same way, after supper, He took the cup…

(Here, the pastor lifts the cup in his hands.)

…gave thanks, and said: Drink of it, all of you. This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me. For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death, give Him praise, and offer thanks—until He comes [1 Cor. 11:23–26].

The Distribution

After this, the ministers circulate with the unleavened bread. Each person receives a piece by their own hand and passes the remainder to their neighbor. If anyone does not wish to take the bread directly, the minister offers it to them. Then the ministers bring around the chalices, and each person receives the cup from the hand of another.

Let not Your Majesty be offended by this manner of giving and receiving. It has been observed many times that individuals who came to the table with grudges and hostilities—having seated themselves hastily and unworthily—through the sharing of bread and cup were moved to lay aside their wrath and reconcile.

Meanwhile, another minister reads aloud from the Gospel of John—beginning with chapter 13—until the sacrament has been received and the chalices returned.

When all the vessels have been brought back, the pastor continues.

The Church

We believe in one holy catholic, that is, universal, Church. This Church may be understood in two ways: as either visible or invisible.

The invisible Church, according to the word of Paul, “comes down from heaven” [cf. Rev. 21:2]. That is, it is made up of those who, enlightened by the Holy Spirit, truly know and embrace God. All who believe throughout the world belong to this Church.

It is called “invisible” not because the believers themselves are invisible, but because it is hidden from human eyes who the true believers are. Their faith is known only to God and to themselves.

The visible Church is not the Pope of Rome and those who wear mitres with him, but rather all who throughout the world bear the name of Christ. Among these are many who are called Christians, though they are not truly so inwardly, for they lack faith.

Thus, within the visible Church there are many who are not members of the elect and invisible Church. Some, for example, eat and drink judgment upon themselves at the Lord’s Supper [cf. 1 Cor. 11:29], though to others they appear to be brethren.

Because the visible Church contains many rebellious and disobedient persons—those who, lacking faith, care nothing for being excommunicated a hundred times—it requires the oversight of the magistrate, whether prince or council, to restrain those who brazenly sin. For the magistrate does not bear the sword in vain [Rom. 13:4].

Since there are pastors in the Church—who, as Jeremiah writes [Jer. 23:1ff], are also regarded as rulers—it is evident that the Church is incomplete and disfigured without the magistrate.

Far from rejecting the magistrate or seeking to abolish his office, as some falsely accuse us of doing, we in fact teach that it is necessary for the full and proper ordering of the Church. Let me explain this briefly.

The Magistrate and Political Authority

The Greeks recognized three forms of political rule, along with their corrupt counterparts:

Monarchy (called regnum by the Latins), where one man rules, guided by piety and justice.

Its corrupt form is tyranny, where justice and reverence are cast aside, and the ruler does whatever he pleases. The Latins, lacking a proper word, often borrowed tyrannis from the Greeks, or referred to this rule simply as force or violence.

Aristocracy (potentia optimatum in Latin), where the best and most just govern.

Its corrupt form is oligarchy (paucorum potentia), when a few selfish men, who care not for the common good but only their own advantage, dominate the state.

Democracy, or popular government (res publica, though this Latin term is broader than the Greek demokratia), where all power belongs to the people and magistrates and offices are in the hands of the whole citizenry.

Its corruption is called in Greek systremma or systasis—sedition, conspiracy, and tumult—when no one tolerates being held accountable, and everyone, claiming to be a member of the whole, pursues their own ambition. This leads to factions, bloodshed, theft, and all the evils of rebellion.

These classifications of government we recognize and correct. If a king or prince governs justly, we teach that he must be honored and obeyed, according to Christ’s word: “Render to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s” [Matt. 22:21].

By “Caesar” we mean any magistrate who holds power—whether by inheritance, election, custom, delegation, or lawful appointment.

But if a prince becomes a tyrant, we rebuke him and call him to account, both in season and out of season [cf. 2 Tim. 4:2]. For the Lord said to Jeremiah: “See, I have set you this day over nations and kingdoms…” [Jer. 1:10].

If such a ruler listens to correction, we have gained for the entire kingdom a true father. But if he continues in wickedness, we teach that he must be obeyed so far as it is permitted—until God removes him or provides the proper authorities with counsel and means to remove him from office and restore order.

We are equally vigilant when aristocracy degenerates into oligarchy, or democracy into sedition. Scripture provides us with many examples that teach and support what we proclaim:

Saul, though wicked, was tolerated by Samuel until the Lord removed him from kingship along with his life [cf. 1 Sam. 15:10ff].

David, when corrected by Nathan, repented and remained in power, though tested severely [cf. 2 Sam. 12:13].

Ahab, who would not repent despite Elijah’s warnings, perished with his wife for his impiety [cf. 1 Kings 21:17ff; 22:34ff; 2 Kings 9:30ff].

John and the Magistrate

John the Baptist boldly rebuked Herod when Herod showed no shame for his incest [cf. Mark 6:18]. But to cite all the examples from Scripture would take too long. The learned and devout will recognize from what sources and with what intent we say these things.

The Magistrate and the Church

In short: The magistrate is just as necessary in the Church of Christ as prophecy is, even if prophecy holds the higher dignity. Just as a human being cannot exist without both body and soul—though the body is the lower and more humble part—so too the Church cannot exist without the magistrate, even if the magistrate deals with the grosser and more worldly matters.

Both Jeremiah [cf. Jer. 29:7; 42:2ff] and Paul [cf. 1 Tim. 2:1–2], two great lights of our religion, command us to pray to the Lord for the magistrate, so that we may live a life worthy of God. How much more, then, ought all who live in any kingdom or nation do everything possible to preserve Christian peace!

That is why we teach that taxes, levies, tithes, debts, and all financial obligations of any kind ought to be paid, and that in such matters all public laws must be obeyed.

The Forgiveness of Sins

We believe in the forgiveness of sins—namely, that a person certainly receives it through faith whenever they call upon God through Christ. For since Christ told Peter to forgive not seven times, but “seventy times seven” [Matt. 18:22], it necessarily follows that God Himself always forgives those who repent.

When we say that sins are forgiven through faith, we mean nothing other than this: that faith alone makes a person certain that their sins are forgiven.

Even if the pope of Rome were to declare a hundred times: “Your sins are forgiven,” the conscience is never at peace or certain of reconciliation with God unless it perceives and believes—without any doubt, indeed with inward conviction—that it has been absolved and redeemed.

Just as no one can believe unless the Holy Spirit gives faith, so also no one can receive the forgiveness of sins without Him.

Forgiveness, satisfaction, and atonement for sin were accomplished solely through Christ’s suffering on our behalf. As John the Evangelist says: “He is the propitiation for our sins—and not only for ours, but for the sins of the whole world” [1 John 2:2].

So who, then, becomes a partaker in that atonement and redemption? Let us hear it from Christ Himself: “Whoever believes in me has eternal life” [John 3:36]. And no one receives eternal life who has not had their sins forgiven. Therefore, whoever trusts in Christ has their sins forgiven.

Since no one can know whether another person truly believes, no one can know whether someone else’s sins are forgiven—except the person themselves, who by the light and strength of faith is certain of pardon, because they know that God has forgiven them in Christ. They are so sure of this forgiveness that they do not even doubt it, for they know that God cannot lie or deceive.

When the voice from heaven said, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” [Matt. 3:17; 17:5], it confirmed that through Him we are reconciled to God. Therefore, all who trust in God through Christ—His Son, our Lord and brother—can know that they have received grace and forgiveness.

It follows that such phrases as “I absolve you” or “I assure you that your sins are forgiven” are meaningless. Although the apostles preached the forgiveness of sins, forgiveness is granted only to those who believe and are elect.

And because we cannot know the election or faith of others—even though the Spirit of the Lord gives us assurance of our own—it remains hidden whether others have had their sins forgiven. How, then, can one human being make another certain of their forgiveness?

Whatever the Roman pontiffs have invented in this matter are nothing but tricks and fictions.

Faith and Works

Since we have now touched on the matter of faith, we would like to offer Your Majesty a brief explanation of what we teach about faith and good works. For some falsely accuse us of forbidding good works.

In this, however, as in all other matters, we teach nothing other than what the divine Scriptures command, and what sound reason affirms. Who is so ignorant as not to say that an action should proceed from a sound plan—and that an action without a plan is not truly an action but mere chance?

Just so, faith is to the human mind what planning is to action. Unless planning precedes a deed, the result is rash and meaningless. Likewise, unless faith governs and directs all that we do, everything we attempt is both irreligious and futile.

Even we human beings care more about the intention behind a deed than the deed itself. If faith is absent, the value of the work is lost.

On Works Without Faith and God’s Will

It is clear, then, that those works which are done without the will of God are also done without faith. And when they are done without faith, they are sin—according to the word of Paul: “Whatever is not from faith is sin” [Rom. 14:23]. And since they are sin, God abhors them.

Therefore, whatever these Romanists have fabricated apart from the authority and testimony of God’s Word—no matter how pious, holy, or pleasing to God it may appear—such as invented indulgences, the extinguishing fires of purgatory, forced celibacy, and the endless variety of religious orders and superstitions (too tedious to recount)—these are sins and abominations in God’s sight.

On Works According to God’s Law and the Question of Merit

Regarding those works that are done according to God’s law—for example, when we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, comfort the captive [cf. Matt. 25:31ff]—there arises a difficult question: Do such works merit anything before God?

The Romanists claim they do, citing Scripture: “Whoever gives even a cup of cold water in my name will not lose their reward” [Matt. 10:42].

But Christ also says: “When you have done all these things, say, ‘We are unworthy servants’” [Luke 17:10].

If our works truly merited eternal happiness, then there would have been no need for Christ to die to satisfy divine justice. There would be no grace involved in the forgiveness of sins, since everyone could earn it.

Paul discusses this unshakably in both Romans and Galatians [cf. Rom. 3:21ff; Gal. 3:11ff]: “No one comes to the Father except through me,” said Christ [John 14:6]. Therefore, eternal blessedness comes only by the grace and generosity of God, which He has abundantly poured out upon us in Christ.

On Reward and the Language of Merit

But how should we understand those passages that promise a reward for even a cup of water given in Christ’s name [Matt. 10:42], and others like it?

This way: God’s election is liberal and free. He chose us before the foundation of the world, before we were even born. Therefore, God did not choose us because of our works, but rather chose us before creation, apart from any merit.

Thus, our works do not earn anything. And when Scripture speaks of rewards for works, it speaks in human terms.

As Augustine says:

“What do You reward, O good God, but Your own work in us? For when You work in us both to will and to act [cf. Phil. 2:13], what remains for us to claim as our own?”

People are often encouraged by promises to do good works. And out of kindness, benefactors often say to those they have helped: “I owed you this,” or “You deserved this,” not to lower them to the level of beggars, but to lift their spirits.

In the same way, God, who loves us far more, raises us up with His generosity—not to be despised, but to be honored and cherished. And He credits to us the very works He accomplishes through us, rewarding them as though they were ours—though not only our deeds, but our very being and life come from Him.

Moreover, God often speaks to us in human language and terms. Since people give to those who are worthy and call those gifts “rewards,” God likewise calls His gifts “wages” or “rewards”—though in truth they are liberal gifts.

So yes, Scripture uses the words “merit” and “reward,” but always in the sense of divine generosity, not earned payment.

Do the Godly Stop Doing Good Works?

This must also be said: Godly people do not cease from doing good works simply because those works, strictly speaking, do not merit salvation. On the contrary, the greater one’s faith, the more abundant and excellent are their works.

As Christ Himself testifies [John 14:12]:

“Truly, truly I say to you: whoever believes in me will do the works that I do, and even greater works than these.”

And again:

“If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will obey you” [Matt. 17:20; Mark 11:23].

Therefore, those who accuse us of rejecting good works because we preach justification by faith alone are unjust and dishonest. They mock the truth when they say:

“This is a convenient doctrine, friends—let us be saved by faith alone, without fasting, without praying, without helping the poor.”

Such slanderers only reveal their own unbelief. For if they truly knew what a gift of God faith is—how powerful, how energetic, how tireless—they would not mock what they themselves do not possess.

For trust in God—when a person relies upon Him with all their strength—thinks and acts only what is divine. Indeed, it is impossible for true faith not to act in ways that are pleasing to God.

Because faith is the breath of the Holy Spirit, how could it ever be idle or lazy, when the Spirit is always active, always working?

Wherever there is true faith, there are good works—just as where there is fire, there is heat.

But where faith is lacking, the “good work” is no work at all, but a hollow imitation.

On Works and Servile Mentality

This leads to a conclusion: those who demand rewards for their works, and those who threaten to stop doing God’s work unless they receive payment—they are servants in spirit. For a servant works only for wages—and often sluggishly.

But those who have faith are diligent in God’s work like a son in his father’s house.

The son does not become heir because of his works, nor does he labor in order to become an heir. He was born an heir, not by merit, but by birth.

And when he labors faithfully, he does not demand payment, because he knows everything already belongs to him.

In the same way, the children of God, who have true faith, know that by their spiritual rebirth and free election they are God’s children, not His slaves.

Since they are heirs, they do not ask what reward awaits them—for all things are already theirs, for they are “heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ” [Rom. 8:17].They work freely, cheerfully, and without complaint. Indeed, there is no task so great that they do not believe it can be completed—not by their own strength, but by the power of the One in whom they trust.

Suppose someone performs a great act of service for Your Majesty, O King, but does notdo it out of loyalty—would you not immediately say you owe them no thanks, since it was not done from the heart? Would you not suspect that some deceit lurked behind their gesture—that it was done not for your sake but their own?

So it is with all our deeds: faith must be the wellspring of every work. If faith is present, then the work is pleasing to God. If it is absent, then whatever is done is not only displeasing, but even detestable to God.

Thus, as St. Paul says: “Whatever is not from faith is sin” [Rom. 14:23]. And some of our own have boldly stated that all our works are an abomination. By this they meant nothing more than what we have already said: any work not rooted in faith is deceit, and God abhors deceit.

And as we stated above, faith comes from the Spirit of God alone. Those who have faith look to the will of God in all their deeds, as to a perfect model.

Therefore, not only are works that violate God’s law to be rejected, but also those that are done without His law. For the law is the eternal will of God. And whatever is done without the law—meaning, without God’s word and will—is not from faith.

And what is not from faith is sin. If it is sin, then God detests it.

Thus, even if someone gives alms—a work commanded by God—but does so without faith, that work is not pleasing to God. For if we ask what prompted this almsgiving that did not arise from faith, we will find it sprang from vain glory, or a desire to receive more, or some other sinful motive.And who would not agree that such a work is displeasing to God?

On the Weakness of Faith and the Presence of Unbelief in the Church

Since there are present within the Church such maladies as unbelief and weakness of faith—for there are some who do not believe at all, namely those who “eat and drink judgment upon themselves” in the Lord’s Supper [cf. 1 Cor. 11:29], such as Judas [cf. Matt. 26:23–25] and Simon Magus [cf. Acts 8:9–24]; and others who possess a feeble faith, namely those who, when threatened by danger, waver rashly, their faith choked by thorns—that is, by the cares and preoccupations of worldly affairs—so that it bears neither fruit nor the fruit of holy works [cf. Matt. 13:22]—we urge such persons, just as Christ, Paul, and James did, that if they are believers, they should demonstrate their faith by their deeds. For “faith without works is dead” [James 2:17], and “a good tree bears good fruit” [Matt. 7:17]; and “if you are children of Abraham, do the works of Abraham” [John 8:39]; and in Christ, “neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love” [Gal. 5:6].

In this way, we preach the law no less than the gospel: through the law, the elect and the faithful learn the will of God, while the impious are terrified, either to be moved by fear to do some good to their neighbor or to betray their despair and infidelity.

At the same time, we warn them not to put any stock in those works which we have devised through human ingenuity in order to serve God—since it is certain that God no more delights in such things than a king would in service rendered to him in a way he does not esteem. If service must be rendered to you, O king, in accordance with your will, how much more must we refrain from presenting to God any work that He has neither commanded nor approves?

Therefore, when we teach faith, we are uncovering the very source from which good works flow. Conversely, when we insist upon works, we do so as one who demands repayment of a debt—which would not be repaid unless enforced by a creditor.

On Eternal Life

Finally, we believe that after this life—which is more a captivity and death than true life—there awaits for the godly and the faithful a blessed and joyful existence, but for the impious and unbelieving, one that is miserable and wretched, and that both states are eternal.

In this matter we oppose the Anabaptists, who claim that the soul sleeps with the body until the universal judgment. We assert instead that the soul—whether of an angel or of a human being—can neither sleep nor lie idle. The claim of the Anabaptists is utterly contrary to reason.

The soul, as a substance, is so full of life that not only does it live, but wherever it dwells, it gives life to its dwelling. When an angel assumes a body—whether composed of air or newly created—it immediately enlivens it so that it moves, acts, is acted upon, and acts in turn. Likewise, the human soul, as soon as it enters the body, begins to live, to grow, to move, and to perform the other functions of life.

How, then, could the soul fall dormant once it has left the body? Philosophers call the soul an act or actuality because of its perpetual activity and vitality. The Greeks use an even more expressive term, calling it ἐντελέχεια (entelechy)—that is, unceasing power, operation, and self-actualizing motion.

All visible things in the world have been ordered by divine providence in such a way that the human mind may ascend from them to the knowledge of invisible things. Among the elements, fire and air occupy a place analogous to that of the soul among corporeal things. Just as air is found throughout the whole body of the world, so the soul pervades the entire human body. As fire is never without its active operation, so the soul is never inactive. This can even be seen in sleep: we dream, and we remember our dreams. Therefore, sleep pertains to the body, not the soul.

While the body sleeps, the soul remains active, restoring the body and renewing what had been worn away—so that it never ceases to act, operate, and move, so long as it remains in the body.

Thus, just as fire cannot exist without light, so the soul never grows old, never ceases, never perishes or sleeps—it always lives, watches, and flourishes.

Scriptural Witness to the Soul’s Wakefulness

But let us now move from philosophy to the witness of Scripture, which teaches that the soul never sleeps:

“Whoever believes does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life” [John 5:24].

Thus, the one who believes in this life already experiences the sweetness of the Lord, and receives a foretaste and beginning of eternal life. If, then, that soul, which in this life lives in God, were to sleep immediately after departing the body, the Christian’s life in this world would be more excellent than his life after death. There he would sleep, though here he kept watch and delighted in God.

“Whoever believes in me has eternal life” [John 3:36].

But if eternal life is interrupted by a sleep of the soul, it is not in fact eternal.

“Father, I will that those you have given me may be with me where I am” [cf. John 17:24].

If the Blessed Virgin, Abraham, and Paul are with God in heaven, what sort of life would they have if they were asleep there? Would even the divine nature itself slumber? If so, then it is no longer divine; for anything that sleeps is a contingent being, and needs sleep to recover from fatigue. But if God tires, He is no longer God. God is invincible in all action and labor.

If God does not sleep, then it necessarily follows that souls in God’s presence do not sleep either—just as it is necessary that air remain transparent and clear when the sun shines upon the earth.

The doctrine of the soul’s sleep is thus absurd and baseless, a fabrication of the Anabaptists, who not only have led men into folly, but have also profaned the certain and infallible oracles of the living God.

There are many more testimonies:

“This is eternal life, that they may know you…” [John 17:3];

“I will take you to myself, that where I am, you may also be” [John 14:3],

and others of similar character—but we will be brief.

The Blessed Vision and the Communion of Saints

We therefore believe that the souls of the faithful, as soon as they are released from the body, ascend to heaven, are united with God, and rejoice eternally in His presence.

This, O most pious King, is your hope—provided that, like David, Hezekiah, and Josiah, you rule the high office entrusted to you by God with justice.

You will behold God Himself in His very substance, in His own form, and enjoy all His gifts and riches—not sparingly, but in fullness, not to the point of disgust (which often accompanies satiety), but with a delightful abundance. Just as rivers pour unceasingly into the sea and flow back through the depths of the earth, refreshing and reviving the land with no weariness, so too shall the vision of God be ever new and ever the same.

The good that we will enjoy is infinite, and what is infinite cannot be exhausted. Therefore, it cannot become tedious; it is ever new and ever the same.

Furthermore, you may hope to see the fellowship and companionship of all the saints, the wise, the faithful, the steadfast, the courageous, and the virtuous who have ever lived from the foundation of the world.

There you will behold the two Adams, the redeemed and the Redeemer; Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Judah, Moses, Joshua, Gideon, Samuel, Phinehas, Elijah, Elisha, Isaiah, and the Virgin Mother of God, of whom he prophesied; David, Hezekiah, Josiah, John the Baptist, Peter, Paul.

There too will be Hercules, Theseus, Socrates, Aristides, Antigonus, Numa, Camillus, the Catones, and the Scipios.

Vision of the Faithful with God

Here you shall see Louis the Pious, together with your ancestors—the other Louis, Philip, Pippin—and as many of your forebears as have departed this life in the faith. And to summarize: there has not been a single good man, nor will there be a single upright mind, nor is there a faithful soul from the very beginning of the world to its consummation, whom you shall not there behold with God. What vision could be more joyful, more delightful, more glorious to contemplate? Or to what more justly could all the energies of the soul be directed than to the attainment of such a life?

Critique of the Anabaptists

Meanwhile, the dreaming Anabaptists rightly deserve to sleep in hell, never to awaken. Their error, however, arises from their ignorance of the fact that among the Hebrews, the verb “to sleep” is often used in place of “to die,” just as it frequently appears in Paul, more often than it is necessary to cite here.

Since mention has now been made of the Anabaptists, we wish, O King, to briefly sketch for you the nature of their sect. It is, by and large, a group of desperate and destitute individuals, whose principal trade is to win favor through lofty talk of divine matters, by which they obtain either sustenance or no small amount of alms. Indeed, they feign the same sanctity of life as your Irenaeus—for he was bishop of Lyon—writes of in regard to the Valentinians, and Gregory of Nazianzus in regard to the Eunomians.

Relying upon this feigned sanctity, they teach: that a Christian cannot be a magistrate; that it is unlawful for a Christian, even when legally authorized, to put anyone to death, even the guilty; that war is not to be waged, even if tyrants, impious men, and violent robbers daily plunder, murder, and lay waste; that oaths are not to be sworn; that Christians may neither levy nor pay taxes or tribute; that all property should be held in common; that souls sleep with the body; that women may have multiple husbands in the spirit, with whom, nonetheless, they engage carnally; that tithes and ecclesiastical revenues should not be paid; and six hundred other such claims—indeed, they daily insert new errors, like tares among the good seed of God.

Rebuttal and Plea to the King

Though they have gone out from us, as they were not of us, yet there are many who impute all their errors to us—even though we fight against them more vigorously than any others, and teach contrary to them on every one of the aforementioned points.

Wherefore, most noble King, if at any time it should be alleged to your Majesty that we reject the magistracy, that we forbid oaths, or that we uphold any of the other doctrines which the Anabaptist pestilence howls into the world, I implore you by the truth itself, of which you are reputed a most devoted lover, do not believe any of these things about us—that is, about those of us who preach the gospel in the cities of the Christian commonwealth.

We do not stir up rebellion; we do not undermine the magistracy, its authority, or the laws; we do not teach that any person should fail to uphold faith or fulfill their obligations—despite the fact that some slander us not only through private denunciations but now also in public writings. These we have chosen not to refute, partly because the world is already filled with the books of madmen, and partly because the facts themselves daily expose the lies of those who spread such things about us—not out of zeal for Christ’s glory, but out of care for their own bellies.

This plague of the Anabaptists especially takes hold wherever the pure doctrine of Christ has begun to emerge, so that you may more clearly see, O King, that it is sown by the Evil One in order to choke the saving seed amid the grass. We have seen cities and towns, which had beautifully received the gospel, brought to ruin and brought to a standstill by this disease, so that in their confusion, they were unable to attend either to divine or human affairs.

Wherefore I admonish your Majesty (let it not be taken amiss—for I know how you are surrounded by excellent counselors, yet no one can guard against what is not foreseen by counsel): if ever this evil should take root in your kingdom, I am confident your advisors would quickly find a remedy—but since they perhaps are unaware of the danger, I trust you will not be offended by this warning.

Call to Support the Gospel

For it is inevitable that certain sparks of the reawakening gospel will begin to shine in your realm. Therefore, do not allow the papists, whose power has grown beyond what is right, to strangle the good seed. For in its place, the tares of the Anabaptists would grow unopposed, and such disorder would follow throughout your whole kingdom that it would be difficult to find a cure.

This, then, is the summary of our faith and preaching, which we practice by God’s grace, ready to give account to any. We teach not a single iota that we have not learned from the divine oracles. Nor do we assert any doctrine that is not attested by the chief teachers of the Church—the prophets, the apostles, the bishops, the evangelists, the interpreters—above all, those ancient authorities who drew most purely from the fountainhead. This all will be evident to those who have read and considered our writings.

Exhortation to the King

Therefore, most holy King—for what should prevent him from being called most holy, who is already called Most Christian?—prepare yourself to receive with honor Christ, now reborn and returning!

For I see that, by divine providence, it has come to pass that the kings of France are called Most Christian, because the renewal of the gospel of the Son of God is destined to take place under your reign, you whom both friends and enemies praise for your natural kindness and gentleness, your equitable and discerning judgment, your sagacity and strength of mind.

In these noble qualities, God has enriched you so that you might shine forth in this age, in which He rekindles the light of His truth. Therefore, go forth with these heroic virtues! Take up shield and spear, and press forward against perfidy with your fearless spirit and noble bearing. Let the other kings, seeing you, the Most Christian, take up the defense of Christ’s glory, follow after you, and cast out Antichrist.

Permit the saving doctrine to be purely preached in your kingdom. You possess wise and learned men, abundant resources, and a people inclined toward true religion. You will not suffer those who are devout toward both God and yourself to be misled by superstition. Let there be no fear in what the calumniators falsely cry out to hinder the truth. For just wars, holy and righteous, shall not only be fought by your own people, but by foreign nations who will become your allies in the cause of truth

They will swear oaths without hesitation—not only the common people, but even the prophets themselves—though the papists have thus far rejected this practice. The prophets also pay taxes and tribute, far from teaching that such obligations should not be fulfilled. Each person’s rights will remain fully intact.

If any offense is committed, it will be reproved; but no one will stir up sedition over temporal matters, since they acknowledge a duly constituted judge in such affairs, even though they may rebuke and admonish that judge when he sins.

Believe, believe, noble hero, none of the evils the papists threaten will actually come to pass! For the Lord protects His Church. Would that you might behold with your own eyes the condition of certain princes in Germany who have received the gospel, or the innocence, joy, and steadfastness of the cities! From their very fruits you would declare: “I do not doubt that this is born of God.”

According to your faith and prudence, weigh all things carefully and forgive the presumption with which we, in rustic fashion, have disturbed your majesty—for the matter required it.

From Zurich, the most devoted servant of Your Most Christian Majesty, Huldrych Zwingli.

On the Presence of Christ’s Body in the Supper

The second matter I promised to expound here is that in the Lord’s Supper, the natural and substantial body of Christ—that very body in which He suffered and which now sits in heaven at the right hand of the Father—is not eaten naturally and essentially, but only spiritually.

Moreover, it is not only frivolous and absurd but also impious and offensive to claim, as the papists do, that Christ’s body is consumed by us with the same dimensions, properties, and manner in which He was born, suffered, and lived.

First, it is certain that Christ assumed true humanity—consisting of body and soul like ours, except without any inclination toward sin. From this it follows that all attributes and conditions pertaining to the human body truly belong to His body. For that which He assumed on our behalf is of our nature, so that He is entirely ours, as we have said before.

From this follow two undeniable conclusions:

(1) that the conditions belonging to our body must also pertain to Christ’s body;

(2) that whatever is in Christ’s body according to the manner of corporeality belongs also to our bodies.

For if there were anything in His body pertaining to corporeality that was lacking in ours, it would appear that He had not assumed it for our sake. And whose else could it be, since there is no bodily being apart from man who is capable of eternal blessedness?

Hence arises what we earlier touched on: that Paul demonstrates both our resurrection from Christ’s and Christ’s from ours. For when he says, “If the dead do not rise, then Christ is not risen” (1 Cor. 15:16), how could this be a valid argument?

Since Christ is God and man, who would not immediately respond to Paul: “You reason falsely, O theologian!” For Christ’s body can and must rise, as it is united to divinity, but ours, being devoid of divinity, has not the same power.

But Paul’s argument has force here because whatever Christ’s body possesses in regard to its manner, attributes, and properties, it possesses for us, as our archetype, and thus belongs to us. It follows: Christ’s body is risen—therefore, ours will rise. We rise—therefore, Christ is risen.

From these sources the most distinguished of theologians, Augustine, drew when he said that Christ’s body must be in some place in heaven, owing to the condition of a true body; and again: “The body of Christ, which rose from the dead, must be in one place.” Therefore, Christ’s body is no more present in many places than our own bodies are.

This is not our opinion alone, but that of the Apostle, of Augustine, and indeed of true religion itself, which—even if we lacked witnesses—teaches us that Christ became like us in all things. For He assumed this weakness for our sake and was “found in fashion,” that is, in attributes, manner, and properties, as a man (cf. Phil. 2:7–8).

From this, O glory of kings, you may now consider how unjustly we are reviled as heretics for our teaching on the sacrament of the Eucharist, when we have never taught a single word not drawn from divine Scripture or from the theologians.

But to return to the point: from the above reasoning, based on Holy Scripture, it follows that Christ’s body must truly, properly, and naturally be in one place—unless we foolishly and impiously dare to assert that our bodies too exist in multiple locations.

It is therefore established that Christ’s body, according to its essence, naturally and truly sits at the right hand of the Father. And in this manner, it is not present in the Supper in such a way that those who teach otherwise do not, in effect, drag Christ down from heaven and from His rightful throne.

Now all the learned have condemned and rejected as impious that opinion by which some have dared to assert that the body of Christ is present everywhere just like the divinity.

For nothing can be present everywhere unless it is by nature infinite. But that which is infinite is, at the same time, eternal. The humanity of Christ is not eternal; therefore, it is not infinite. If it is not infinite, it must necessarily be finite. And if it is finite, it cannot be omnipresent.

But let us set aside these considerations—which, nevertheless, we have introduced here so as not to fail in philosophical argument, should you ever encounter it, O King—and let us proceed to the impenetrable testimonies of Scripture.

We have already demonstrated clearly that whatever is said about Christ in the sacred books must be understood as referring to the whole and undivided Christ.

Although it is easy to determine which nature is being spoken of in any given passage, this does not divide Christ into two persons, even if what is said applies to one nature or the other. Having two natures does not sever the unity of the person—just as in man.

Again, even when attributes of the divine nature are ascribed to the human, or vice versa, the natures are not thereby confused—as though the divinity had been transformed into humanity, or the humanity into divinity. This will become clearer through a series of examples.

“She gave birth to her firstborn son and laid him in a manger” (Luke 2:7).

No one denies that Christ, who is both God and man, was born of the Virgin, because of the unity of his person. Hence, we rightly and justly affirm and approve that she be called the Mother of God (θεοτόκος).

Nevertheless, his divine nature was not born of her, but of the Father alone—just as in man the body is generated by the mother, the soul by God, and yet we still say the man is begotten by his parents.

Moreover, that he was laid in a manger—he who fills heaven and earth—applies in the same way to his humanity. But since all of this is ascribed to the entire Christ—his birth and his being laid in a manger—no confusion arises. And this is because of the union and conjunction of the two natures in one person.

“He ascended into heaven” (Luke 24:51).

This, likewise, is principally referred to the human nature, although the divine did not cease to be present. The divinity bore up the humanity, which was carried. The former remains forever circumscribed; otherwise, it would cease to be true humanity. The latter is forever infinite and uncircumscribed, and thus does not move from one place to another but remains eternally present everywhere.

“Behold, I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matt. 28:20) refers principally to the divinity, for the humanity has been taken up into heaven.

“I am leaving the world again and going to the Father” (John 16:28)—this must be understood, even necessarily, as referring naturally to his humanity. For it is God who speaks; and therefore it must be true.

Which nature, then, leaves the world? Not the divine, for that cannot move from place to place, since it is not contained by space. It is therefore the human nature that departs. And if it has left the world, understand this, O King, as referring to natural, essential, and local presence. Therefore, it is not here.

Consequently, the body of Christ is not eaten by us naturally or essentially—much less with measure or dimension—but only sacramentally and spiritually.

“I will no longer be in the world” (John 17:11)—these words (καὶ οὐκέτι εἰμὶ ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ) are so definitive as to dispel all clouds of confusion. They show that, according to his human nature, Christ is not to be expected in the world by a natural, essential, or corporeal presence, but only spiritually and sacramentally.

“Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into the sky? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you have seen him go into heaven” (Acts 1:11).

Here it is clearly stated that he was taken up into heaven from the disciples. He went away, therefore, and is not here. But how did he go? Corporally, naturally, and according to the true essence of his human nature.

So when it says, “He will come in the same way”—it means corporally, naturally, and essentially.

But when will he come in that way? Not when the Church celebrates the Lord’s Supper, but when the entire world is to be judged by him at the end of time.

Therefore, that opinion is irreligious which asserts that Christ’s body is eaten in the Supper corporally, naturally, essentially, or with measurement, for it is contrary to the truth.

And whatever is contrary to the truth is impious and irreligious.

Spiritual Eating and Confidence in Christ

When, in the midst of the torment of despair, you lift your soul by this confidence, saying: Why are you troubled, my soul? God, who alone enriches with blessedness, is yours, and you are His. For although you were His work and creation, yet you had perished through sin; He sent His Son to you, and made Him like you apart from sin, so that, supported by the right and privilege of such a Brother and Companion, you might dare even to ask for eternal salvation as though by your own right.

What demon shall terrify me, so that I should fear him, when He who helps me is present? Who shall take from me what God Himself has given, and for which He gave His Son as pledge and surety? Thus, I say, when you comfort yourself in Christ, you now eat His body spiritually—that is, by confidence in the man assumed for your sake, you stand unshaken in God against all the darts of despair.

Sacramental Eating in the Supper

But when you come to the Lord’s Supper with this spiritual eating and give thanks to the Lord for such a benefit—for the deliverance of your soul, freed from the destruction of despair, and for the pledge by which you are assured of eternal blessedness—and at the same time partake with your brothers of bread and wine, which are now the symbolic body of Christ, then you properly eat sacramentally, when, that is, you do inwardly what you enact outwardly, when the soul is refreshed by that faith which you profess through the symbols.

Improper Sacramental Eating

But they are said to eat sacramentally in an improper sense who publicly eat the visible sacrament or symbol, but have no faith inwardly. These, therefore, by eating, provoke the judgment—that is, the vengeance—of God upon themselves, because they do not hold the body of Christ, that is, the entire mystery of the Incarnation and Passion, and even the Church of Christ itself, in such esteem as the godly rightly do (cf. 1 Cor. 11:29).

For since a man ought to examine himself before becoming a guest (cf. 1 Cor. 11:28), that is, to explore and question himself as to whether he both acknowledges and has received Christ as the Son of God and his own Redeemer and Savior, so as to rely upon Him as the infallible author and giver of salvation, and whether he rejoices in being a member of His Church, whose head is Christ (cf. Eph. 1:22; 5:23), then, if such faith is not present, and the unfaithful man joins himself to the Church in the Supper as though he had such faith, is he not guilty of the body and blood of the Lord (1 Cor. 11:27)? Not because he has eaten something naturally or physically, but because he has falsely testified before the Church that he has eaten spiritually, when he has never truly tasted spiritually.

Therefore, they are said to eat only sacramentally who make use of the symbols of thanksgiving in the Supper, but do not have faith. These are more gravely condemned than the rest of the unfaithful, because the latter do not acknowledge Christ’s Supper, whereas these pretend to acknowledge it. For the one who, being unfaithful, celebrates the Supper, sins doubly—by unfaithfulness and by presumption—whereas the unfaithful perish like fools by unfaithfulness alone.

Dispute over the Efficacy of the Sacraments

Moreover, a sharp dispute has long been held among us about what the sacraments or symbols in the Supper do or can do: our opponents contend that the sacraments give faith, bring the natural body of Christ, and effect that He be presently eaten; while we, holding a different view not without authority, assert otherwise.

First, because that faith which is trust in God can be given by none but the Holy Spirit—no external thing can give it. Although sacraments may create faith, it is only historical faith. All commemorations, trophies, even monuments and statues produce historical faith—that is, they remind us that something once occurred, the memory of which is to be revived. Such is the Passover of the Hebrews and the Seisachtheia of the Athenians, or the stone of help (Ebenezer), signifying a victory gained at that place.

Thus, the Lord’s Supper creates historical faith—that is, it certainly signifies that Christ was born and suffered. But to whom does it signify this? To both believers and unbelievers equally. To all, it signifies (as to the power of the sacrament) that Christ suffered, whether they receive it or not. But that He suffered for us, this it signifies only to the godly and faithful. No one knows or believes that Christ suffered for us except him whom the Spirit inwardly teaches to recognize the mystery of divine goodness. He alone receives Christ.

Therefore, confidence in God is given by none but the Spirit.

“No one comes to me unless the Father draws him” (John 6:44).

Furthermore, Paul abolishes this whole debate in a single phrase, when he says: “Let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of the bread and drink of the cup” (1 Cor. 11:28). Therefore, since a man must examine his faith before he approaches, it cannot be that faith is given in the Supper; it must be present before he comes.

Against the Presence of the Natural Body

Second, we opposed the error of our adversaries when they claimed that by means of these symbols, bread and wine, the natural body of Christ is brought forth, since the words “This is my body” (1 Cor. 11:24) supposedly have that power and effect. But this is contradicted, both by what we said above about Christ’s words—which deny that His body would remain in the world (cf. John 16:28)—and because, if those words had such power, then they would bring forth Christ’s passible (mortal) body.

For when Christ said these words, He still had a mortal body; therefore, the apostles would have eaten a mortal body. For He did not have two bodies, one immortal and insensible, the other mortal. If, then, the apostles ate a mortal body, what kind do we eat now? Surely, also a mortal one.

But now His body is immortal and incorruptible, whereas it was once mortal. If we now were to eat a mortal body, then again He would have both a mortal and an immortal body. But this cannot be (for a thing cannot be mortal and immortal at the same time). It would follow, then, that He has two bodies: one mortal, which the apostles ate, and the other immortal, which is seated at the right hand and does not depart from there. Unless we wish to say that the apostles ate the mortal body, and we now eat the immortal—but how absurd that is, everyone can see.

Argument from Reverence

Finally, we oppose our adversaries who assert that the natural, substantial body of Christ is presently eaten, for religion itself forbids this. When Peter perceived Christ’s divine power at work in the miraculous catch of fish, he said, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man,” for amazement had seized him (Luke 5:8f). And are we to have a desire to eat Him naturally, as if we were cannibals?

What man loves his children in such a way that he wishes to devour or chew them? Are not those who eat human flesh judged to be the most savage of men? The centurion said, “I am not worthy that you should come under my roof” (Matt. 8:8). And of him, Christ Himself said that He had found no such faith in all Israel (cf. Matt. 8:10).

Therefore, the greater and holier faith is, the more it is content with spiritual eating; and the more richly it is satisfied with this, the more the devout mind shrinks from carnal eating. The devout women served and honored Christ’s body by washing and anointing it, not by eating it (cf. Mark 14:3; Luke 7:38; John 11:2). The noble senator Joseph and the pious follower Nicodemus wrapped His body in linens and spices and laid it in the tomb (John 19:38–42), but they did not eat it naturally.

On the Efficacy of the Sacraments

These absurdities, then, O King, clearly show that neither to the Eucharist nor to Baptism should we attribute, under the guise of piety, that which endangers both religion and truth.

But what then? Do the sacraments have no power? Indeed, they have great power.

The ring of the Empress Leonora, your wife, by which Your Majesty betrothed her, is not valued by the price of its gold, but surpasses all price—although in substance, it is simply gold. Because it is the symbol of the royal husband, therefore, of all rings, the king is its lord, so that if she should at any time name and enumerate her possessions, she may undoubtedly say, “This is my king,” that is, “this is the ring of my royal husband, by which he betrothed me to himself; this is the symbol of our inseparable union and fidelity.”

So too, the bread and wine are symbols of that friendship by which God has been reconciled to the human race through His Son. We do not value them according to the price of the material, but according to the greatness of the thing signified, so that it is no longer common bread, but sacred—not only called bread, but also the body of Christ. Indeed, it is the body of Christ by appellation and signification, which the moderns call “sacramentally.”

Fifth Power: There is an analogy between the symbols and the thing signified. The Eucharist has a double analogy:

One pertains to Christ: just as bread sustains and strengthens human life, and wine gladdens man, so Christ alone restores, sustains, and gladdens the soul destitute of all hope. Who can still languish in despair, who sees the Son of God made his own? He holds Him in his soul as a treasure that cannot be taken away, and through Him he can obtain all things from the Father.

The other analogy pertains to us: just as bread is made from many grains and wine from many grapes, so the body of the Church is formed from countless members into one body, joined together and built up in one trust in Christ, which comes from one Spirit, so that it may be the true temple and body of the indwelling Holy Spirit (cf. 1 Cor. 12:12–30; 3:16).

Sixth Power: They bring help and aid to faith. And this is what the Eucharist does above all. You know, O King, that our faith is always being tested and tried;

for Satan sifts us like wheat, just as he did the apostles (cf. Matt. 13:25).

But by what trick does he assail us? Through internal betrayal; he attempts to overthrow us through our bodies, as if through an old and crumbling part of the wall, laying siege to our senses with the ladders of desire.

Therefore, when the senses are drawn away from listening to him, his plan is already hindered. Now, in the sacraments, not only are the senses denied to Satan’s persuasion, but they are also made servants to faith, so that like handmaids they do nothing except what faith commands and orders; they therefore assist faith.

Let me speak plainly. In the Eucharist, the four most powerful senses—or rather all the senses—are, as it were, rescued and redeemed from the desires of the flesh and are brought into service to faith.

Hearing—no longer hears the harmonies of strings and voices, but hears the heavenly voice: “God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son for its life” (John 3:16). Therefore we assemble, brothers, to give thanks for this grace shown to us. By the command of His own Son, we do this rightly, for He, just about to die, instituted this act of thanksgiving to leave us a perpetual remembrance and pledge of His love for us. He took the bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to the disciples, speaking these sacred words from His most holy mouth: “This is my body.” Likewise He took the cup, etc. (cf. 1 Cor. 11:23ff).

When hearing receives these words, does it not become utterly amazed and focused entirely on what is being proclaimed, when it hears God, His love, and His Son handed over to death for us? And when it is so focused, does it not perform the very act of faith? For faith is that which relies on God through Christ.

Therefore, when hearing aligns with this, it serves faith and no longer disturbs faith with its frivolous thoughts and impulses.

Sight, when it sees the bread and the cup, which serve in the place of Christ to signify His goodness and grace—does it not also serve faith? For it sees Christ, as it were, before its eyes, and the soul burns with love for His beauty.

Touch takes the bread into the hands, which is now, by signification, not merely bread, but Christ.

Taste and smell are likewise summoned, to “taste and see how sweet the Lord is,” and how blessed is the one who trusts in Him (cf. Ps. 34:9). For just as they rejoice in and are revived by food, so the soul, having tasted the sweet hope of heaven, leaps and exults.

Therefore, the sacraments assist the contemplation of faith; they align with the pursuits of the soul, in a way that does not happen so powerfully or unanimously outside the use of the sacraments.

In baptism, sight, hearing, and touch are summoned to the work of faith. For faith—whether of the Church or of the one being baptized—acknowledges that Christ died, rose, and triumphed for His Church. The same is heard, seen, and touched in baptism. Therefore, the sacraments are like reins, by which the senses—ready to run off to their own desires—are recalled and restrained, so that they may serve the mind and faith.

Seventh Power: The sacraments have the power of an oath. For among the Latins, sacramentum is often used to mean “oath.” Those who partake in the same sacraments become one people and a kind of sacred confederation, united into one body. Whoever betrays that body is perjured.

Thus, the people of Christ, when joined into one body by sacramentally eating His body, if unfaithful yet daring to enter this fellowship, betray the body of Christ—both its Head and its members—because they fail to discern, that is, to esteem properly, the body of the Lord, both what He delivered up for us and what was redeemed by His death (cf. 1 Cor. 11:27ff). For we are one body with Him.

We are therefore compelled, whether we will or not, to acknowledge that these words—”This is my body” (1 Cor. 11:24)—are not to be understood in a natural sense and by the proper meaning of the words, but symbolically, sacramentally, denominatively, or metonymically, as follows: “This is my body,” that is, “This is the sacrament of my body,” or, “This is my sacramental or mystical body,” that is, the symbolic and vicarious representation of that which I truly assumed and gave over to death.

But now it is time—lest I forget brevity and offend Your Majesty—to move on to other matters. What we have said already, however, is so firm, O most valiant king, that although many have attempted to refute it, no one has even been able to shake it.

Therefore, let not Your Majesty be disturbed if those who are quicker with the tongue than sound in Scripture shout that this opinion is irreligious. They boast boldly with words, but in substance they are naked as the leberide.

(Appendix I: Bullinger’s Preface to the 1536 Edition)

To the Pious Reader:

Although the most faithful preacher of the gospel and steadfast defender of Christian liberty, Huldrych Zwingli, said everything with clarity, caution, and lucidity, yet in this little book he seems to surpass himself, singing as it were a swan song at the approach of death. He explains clearly and briefly what true faith is and what pious religion consists in. He also responds to the slanderers who defame faith and evangelical preaching, and thus offers a complete apology for the true faith and religion to all Christian kings and princes.

We did not want to deprive you of such a great treasure; therefore, receive with a pure heart what is offered with a sincere mind. Everything has been transcribed from the author’s own autograph. We mention this particularly because the book was published only five years after the author’s death. Everything has been faithfully copied. Farewell from Zurich, February 1536.

(Appendix II: Leo Jud’s Preface to His German Translation)

To the pious and honorable Lord Werner Steyner, his dear and special good friend and brother:

There are many and very legitimate reasons, beloved friend and brother, that have moved me to dedicate this little book to you and inscribe it with your name. Chief among them is this—that I might show some small measure of gratitude for your many kindnesses, with which you have richly overwhelmed me, for to repay you is impossible.

And since it must and ought to be simple, that I show myself thankful to you, I thought that this little book (though small in size) would nevertheless be dear and valuable to you in many ways and very pleasing to others as well. Especially since it is, as far as we know, the last work and almost a testament of our dear faithful father, shepherd, and teacher Huldrych Zwingli—because we know well the love, fidelity, and extraordinary friendly closeness you bore toward him in his life, and the love you had for him.

That you may, even after his death, have him alive and speaking with you at all times, this little book will, in sweet and powerful fashion, make the absent one present to you. Moreover, in terms of content, this little book is great, for in it he has condensed the whole of religion and the principal points of all his teaching into a brief summary, such that, although small in substance, it should be considered a great treasure by lovers of the truth.

A pearl is a small thing in appearance, but if one considers its strength, virtue, and worth, it surpasses many things. Since I have translated it (with more diligence than elegance), I hope you will not despise this gift—small on my part, but great in terms of content and authorship. For Christ Himself said that even a cup of cold water given to one of His own shall not go unrewarded; and He valued the poor widow’s penny more than all the rich gifts.

Intent and heart should be measured in all acts of kindness, not the gift in and of itself. People say that the poor should give nothing to the rich—but when I see that this book was addressed to a king by the one who wrote it, how could I omit to offer it to a humble man for whom I translated it?

What does “rex” mean? Truly, nothing other than a ruler—for he receives the name from ruling. Since God has drawn you out of papal darkness and into the kingdom of His beloved Son, how can I not recognize you as a king (you being a son of the highest King), who for love and faith has left your home and fatherland, friends, patrons, and many goods and possessions, like faithful Abraham, and have placed yourself in danger of loss and death?

For I am well informed of your faithfulness to the gospel, the loss you have suffered for it, and how you are even hated and suspected by those who claim to share our faith. I say this not to flatter or fawn, but to bear witness to the truth with truth.

Since God has graciously taken you into His school, I pray that He grant you His Spirit, who may help you rule and tame the flesh and its temptations—those wicked and harmful tyrants that seek to overthrow order and should instead be ruled. May He alone rule in you and make you a true spiritual king. Stronger is the one who conquers himself than the one who conquers a host of enemies. For the most harmful enemy we carry within ourselves, and while we can renounce all things, it is hardest to renounce ourselves.

May the Lord preserve you long for the sake of His Church, so that many poor may be helped through you and God’s glory daily advanced. And may He who has bestowed on you many temporal gifts grant you also a heart set not on those passing riches but on the eternal, everlasting, heavenly goods. He who is rich in God is truly rich. May God grant you a steadfast, kingly, and glorious spirit that lifts you above all earthly things and never allows you to become a slave to worldly riches. Amen.

Your faithful and most willing,

Leo Jud.

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