Who has never had their routine interrupted by the sudden death of someone close, and for a moment seen their own life with different eyes? Something similar cracked open the comfortable existence of a merchant from Lyon in the twelfth century, leading him to ask what was truly worth living for.
Peter Waldo was a prosperous merchant, with a wife, daughters, and a fortune built partly on loans at interest. Hearing a traveling minstrel recount the life of Saint Alexius, who had abandoned wealth and marriage for a life of surrender, left him unsettled. News of a friend’s sudden death during a meal deepened his unease.
Waldo sought out a master of Scripture and asked what was the safest and most perfect path to God. The answer was Matthew 19:21, Jesus’s call to the rich young man: sell everything and give to the poor. Waldo took the answer literally.
On the Feast of the Assumption, around 1176, he divided his estate: he let his wife choose between the real estate and the movable goods, made restitution to those he had wronged through his former practice of usury, placed his two daughters in a convent, and distributed the rest to the poor in the public square, in the midst of a famine gripping the city.
He then commissioned a translation of the Gospels into Franco-Provençal, the language the people of Lyon actually spoke, and began preaching voluntary poverty in the streets. A group of laypeople gathered around him known as the Poor of Lyon, which spread through Lombardy and beyond.
Lay preaching without episcopal authorization shocked the hierarchy. In 1179, Waldo went to Rome and obtained from Pope Alexander III approval of his vow of poverty, but not of unordained preaching. He and his followers kept preaching anyway, and in 1184 they were excommunicated by Pope Lucius III at the Synod of Verona: a rupture he had never sought, the result of placing his conviction above hierarchical obedience.
Persecuted and expelled from Lyon, he died in exile at an uncertain date, somewhere between 1205 and around 1218, without it being known precisely where. But the movement that began with his renunciation survived persecution, endured for centuries, and still exists today.
Waldo’s life reminds us that putting Scripture into the language of the people and entrusting laypeople with the task of proclaiming it is not a modern invention: it is an impulse as old as the gospel itself, and it still remains worth the price of giving up everything.