money directly from the cantonal church. Donations still account for a proportion of its funding. Why heavy metal? That the church’s theme is heavy metal – a sub-culture of screeching riffs, made famous by “Prince of Darkness” Ozzy Osbourne – is something that Hug considers not miraculous but entirely logical. “Metal covers the big themes in life,” he says. Like the Bible itself, it does not shy away from things like pain, doubt and the depths of human existence. It shares the same Christian message of hope, he adds. The only difference is the way in which this message is delivered. “What unites us is faith.” A social deaconess works with Hug in an employed role as part of an eight-person leadership team, while 125 volunteers provide support – twice as many as four years ago. There is no membership list: it is a fluid congregation that gathers wherever it sees fit. Over 100 people attend the Metalchurch’s monthly services of worship, which feature live music, take place at a social club and are broadcast on an online radio channel called “Drachenblut” (dragon blood). The Metalchurch also provides pastoral care at music festivals – it clocked up nearly 30 such events last year – and hosts discussions like Bible, Beer & Metal in people’s living rooms. Metal-themed baptisms, weddings and funerals are less in demand. This reflects the decline in traditional rituals, says Hug. A shrinking flock The Metalchurch has been recognised at a time when Switzerland’s religious landscape is in a state of flux. For decades, the once dominant official churches have been losing members. Federal statistics show that 47 per cent of the population belonged to the Roman Catholic Church in 1980. Now the figure is 30 per cent. Protestant Reformed Church membership fell even further, from 45 to 19 per cent. Religious diversity grew in the same period due to migration. But most notably, the number of people with no religious affiliation increased, making up the biggest share of the population in 2024 – the first time this has happened – at nearly 37 per cent compared to only around four per cent in 1980. The haemorrhaging mainstream churches are consequently losing income. Parishes have merged and sold their building stock, including churches. The consensus in some quarters – and not only in increasingly secular Switzerland – is that fresh ways to spread the gospel are needed to stop the rot. Churches should “contextualise” their message more, i.e. adapt it to real life, they say. Conventional and alternative congregations, e.g. forest churches, have existed on an equal footing in the Church of England since 2008. Such approaches remain nascent in Switzerland, where the cantonal churches make their own decisions. Antidote to the church malaise? “We want to embrace new expressions of worship,” says Markus Dütschler. Berne-Jura-Solothurn have a dedicated innovation fund to promote over 30 projects, ranging from a hip-hop centre and a queer parish office, to an urban monastery located in a repurposed set of church buildings. Recognising the Metalchurch as an official congregation is the most significant step taken by a cantonal church to date. Whether more dedicated communities follow remains to be seen. Metal fan Hug, a decidedly proactive minister of the cloth who is smart at getting his message across, already has the answer: “Churches cannot afford to wait for people to come to them. They must go to where the people are.” Metal band Melodic Confession – live music is an integral part of every Metalchurch service. Photo: provided/ Marcel Gisin Swiss Review / April 2026 / No. 2 27
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