Acknowledgements
The roots of this book run deep. As a distracted undergraduate in Halifax, Canada, I randomly took a book off a shelf near my desk. It was George Potter’s biography of Huldrych Zwingli. Needless to say, I had heard of neither the author nor the subject, but I quickly discovered through perusing the volume that this sixteenth-century dude was a Swiss Protestant reformer who died in battle. That had to be a good story, I imagined. Several years later, on a cold February morning, I arrived at the Institut für Schweizerische Reformationsgeschichte in Zurich with very broken German (and no Swiss dialect), where I received a warm welcome from the secretary Frau Alexandra Seger and the Oberassistent Heinzpeter Stucki, who listened patiently to my bumbling attempts to explain my interest in Zwingli. Heinzpeter took me to the Staatsarchiv in Irchel. He also taught me to read sixteenth-century German and handwriting, and launched me on a project that would become my doctoral dissertation. Back at the institute on Kirchgasse 9, I was given a place to work and endless encouragement. I soon came to know the editors of the Bullinger correspondence, Hans Uli Bächtold and Kurt Rüetschi, who took me to lunch at Bauschänzli and taught me a great deal, and always with a heady dose of humour. Soon, I encountered the head of the institute, Professor Fritz Büsser, a formidable figure of the old Swiss school who ended up becoming a patron, mentor, examiner of my thesis at St Andrews and, finally, a friend. I shall never forget a lunch at Le Dézaley when he recounted the great, departed scholars of the Swiss Reformation.
During my initial stay in Zurich, I rather naïvely rented a room for two months in the Niederdorf, then very much the red-light district. It was clear that the locals had little interest in the Reformation. Soon afterwards, I moved to the more congenial setting of the Studentenheim in Steinwiesstrasse. There I made some friends who would sustain my time in Switzerland. Particularly generous was Daniel Hubacher, now pastor in Bern, who invited me to his home and took me swimming in the Aare.
One of my greatest pleasures was to meet the great scholar Gottfried W. Locher, first in Scotland and then at his home near Bern. When I visited him at his apartment, he kindly invited me to put on his Hausschuhe, so I have briefly walked in his shoes. He patiently explained Zwingli and the Swiss Reformation to me in a way that I have never forgotten. I hope something of his wisdom has made its way into this book.
As the years passed, the institute in Zurich was both an intellectual home and a place of joy. Rainer Henrich took me to lunch, beginning a friendship that has flourished for over 30 years, with him becoming godfather to our daughter. The succession of directors, Alfred Schindler, Emidio Campi and Peter Opitz have been nothing less than supportive and generous. Emidio and Peter became dear friends, sharing their work and inviting me into their homes. I remember with great fondness Brigitta Stoll, Daniel Bolliger, Roland Diethelm, Luca Baschera, Michael Baumann, Alexandra Kess, and recently Reinhard Bodenman. I am grateful to Francisca Loetz in Zurich and Kaspar von Greyerz in Basel/Bern for their friendship and support. With affection, I am thankful for my friendship with Christian Moser, who is proof that outstanding scholarship can be combined with a wicked sense of humour. His WhatsApp messages have brightened many a day. I dedicated a book to Christian’s son Sebi, my godson, and he remains deep in my heart. The pinnacle of these many years came in 2012, when I was awarded an honorary doctorate from the theological faculty at Zurich, one of the greatest moments of my life. The journey from that Monday morning in 1988 to the ceremony at Irchel has left me with an enduring love of Zurich and Switzerland, reflected not in books and articles, but in friends and family.
The roots run to Canada and Scotland. My undergraduate years at King’s College, Dalhousie in Nova Scotia, transformed my life. I came under the guidance of teachers who taught me to learn languages, study philosophy (never my strong point) and history. They are mostly gone, but recently I was able to get in touch with my fellow student and dear friend, Neil Robertson and my wise teachers Henry Roper and Tom Curran. In 2019, my college gave me an honorary degree in canon law (wonderful for a Presbyterian). It was incredibly moving to be back after 40 years.
Fifteen years of teaching at St Andrews in Scotland was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. The St Andrews Reformation Studies Institute was an adventure that my friend (and best man) Andrew Pettegree and I embarked upon with nothing but a single filing cabinet; it has since become an international scholarly body. My debt to Andrew cannot be filled in these acknowledgements. We were soon joined by Bridget Heal, who has remained a friend and inspiration. Tom Scott taught me much about German and Swiss history. Occasionally, I am in contact with former students from those years – the happiest of associations from some of the best years of my life.
This year, 2020, has witnessed enormous change. A pandemic rages as I complete this manuscript, and all academic work is overshadowed by the suffering and loss of loved ones, but also by the enormous courage of those who care for the ill. One of the people we have recently lost is Peter Stephens, whose work on Zwingli has become a staple of knowledge of the reformer in the English-speaking world. His laconic humour and eccentricity will be missed. As will be Irena Backus, who was a mentor to me in so many ways. Her endless kindnesses, including invitations to dinner at her home in Geneva, inspire me to share the humaneness of learning. I remember with affection my doctoral supervisor James K. Cameron, as well as Hans Guggisberg, who hosted me in Basel. As I finish, I learn of the death of Frau Seger, who welcomed me in Zurich in 1988. Rest in peace.
When I wrote Calvin, Rona, Charlotte and I were about to embark on an adventure in Yale and New Haven. Now, 12 years on, I have amassed a number of debts of scholarship and of friendship. Once again, it has been all about the students, and I shall never regret my open-door policy at the Divinity School and the students who have invited me into their lives, even if some things had to be done at the last moment because of too much chatting. They have indulged this guy who talks about the sixteenth century. During my time, I have had wonderful colleagues, too many to mention. Above all, I think of Carlos Eire, whose generosity, learning and charity are a model worthy of the saints he studies. I think also of Markus Rathey (who puts me right about Luther), Joel Baden, Tisa Wenger, Ken Minkema, Harry Attridge, Melanie Ross, Joyce Mercer, Adam Eitel, Clifton Grandby, John Hare, Teresa Berger, Chloe Starr, Steve Crocco, Jennifer Herdt, Emilie Townes and the late Lamin Sanneh. As dean, Greg Sterling has been supportive, encouraging and a friend. Also at Yale, I owe a great debt of thanks to John Rogers (our co-taught course in Britain!), Frank Griffel (with whom, in Berlin, we watched Germany win the World Cup), Larry Manley, David Quint, David Kastan, Julia Adams, Phil Gorsky, Keith Wrightson, Francesca Trivellato (now at Princeton) and Rob Nelson.
Zwingli and Luther may have died unreconciled, but two of their best scholars have taught me how to understand them, and their friendship has been a treasure: Amy Nelson Burnett and Lyndal Roper.
One of the great joys of being at Yale has been the graduate students with whom I have had the honour to work. I think of Max Scholz, Elizabeth Herman, Ryan Patrico, Dan Jones, Flynn Cratty, Brad Abromaitis, Russ Gasdia, Alexander Batson, Elizabeth Buckheit and Serena Strecker. They have taught me more than I can repay.
To the book, my overwhelming thanks goes once more to Heather McCallum at Yale, whose boundless enthusiasm and support have seen me through another sixteenth-century figure. Her short, to-the-point emails are worth framing. She kept me to my word limit! I am extremely grateful to the readers for the press, who saw an all-too-early version of the text and patiently made enormously helpful suggestions. As with Calvin years ago, Rachael Lonsdale expertly guided me through publication. I owe a particular debt to Philip Benedict, who influenced this book in crucial ways and whose knowledge of the Reformation has taught us all.
I realize that my thanks read like the credits from the Ten Commandments. I acknowledge with great joy the work and counsel of my dear friend Pierrick Hildebrand, whose own book on the Zurich covenant will arrive in due course. Pierrick rendered my Swiss German into something more comprehensible and kept me right on so many points. I will never forget a walk in Emmental, when he shared generous and thoughtful reflections on how to understand Zwingli better. Our Skype conversations are a weekly highlight, as is his model of Christian fellowship.
There are many who have read the text in part or whole, and whose feedback has been invaluable. Notable was my editor Nate Antiel, whose advice changed the direction of the book, much for the better. I thank with gratitude: Ward Holder (for friendship and a long and instructive phone call), Euan Cameron, Diarmaid MacCulloch, Alec Ryrie, Peter Marshall, Joel Harrington, Chris Ocker, Jennifer McNutt, Paul Lim, Michael Walker, Randy Head, Kathryn Lofton, Richard Muller, David Noe, Justin Hawkins, Will Tarnasky, Bill Goettler, Colin Destache, Jamie Dunn. Russ Gasdia did wonderful work on the maps, and Pierrick Hildebrand helped procure the images.
Three people who deserve special thanks are my tireless and resourceful research assistants: Jacques Fabiunke (now back in Germany), Max Norman and Will Taransky.
While in New Haven, we have been fortunate to be part of a church community that is loving and committed to God’s justice. Our friends Bill Goettler and Maria LaSala guided us for years. Now we are fortunate to have the prophetic voice of Pastor J.C. Cadwallader. If Zwingli had known that gender is no barrier to speaking God’s Word, he would have been thrilled. I owe much to Dr Victoria Morrow, whom I meet weekly. I have tried to do what you suggested. I was extremely fortunate to work with Clive Liddiard at the press, whose expert copy-editing much improved the book.
At Yale, Steve Pincus was my colleague and co-conspirator. I learned from him always to ask the ‘so what’ question. I miss his presence here, but take great pleasure that he and Sue Stokes are flourishing in Chicago. You give us good reason to get to know the windy city. Here’s to more meals.
Twelve years ago, I was able to dedicate Calvin to Rona, as an offering of my love. I was clear that you had taught me the meaning of our vow of ‘in sickness and in health’. Little did we know that there would be more sickness, hospitals, psychiatrists and treatment. Yet, here we are, in love as much as ever. Your deep understanding of the early modern world has led me to think harder and write better. Your editing hand has made my thoughts clear and my ideas fly, even when you thought I was wrong. Every page has your wisdom. There has been nothing better than to walk around Vienna with you and learn about a vanished world.
To Charlie, your desire to change the world continues to inspire me. Here’s hoping that you will soon be back in Jordan, speaking Arabic and living your passion.
Finally, it is a joy to dedicate this volume to friends who have sustained, inspired and loved me.
New Haven
December 2020