The London-born teenager set to become Britain's first millennial saint

Independent

22-05-2025

Saint-making in the Catholic Church – or canonisation as it is called – is traditionally a drawn-out, opaque process with the successful candidates who have emerged from it in recent times usually worthy but unsurprising long-dead clerics and nuns. That is why Carlo Acutis joining their heavenly ranks has caught the attention of so many.
London-born, raised in Italy, this tech-savvy, deeply devout teenager tragically died aged just 15 from leukaemia in 2006. Pope Francis's decision in 2024 to approve his canonisation saw him labelled 'the first millennial saint'.
As with many of the late Pope's bold, breaking-with-precedent decisions, this one appeared to be based, in part at least, on a realisation that the Church feels alien and irrelevant to many young people because of its outdated stance on sex before marriage, women's equality and same-sex relationships.
Holding up Acutis as a role model – which is part of their job description – is therefore showing a sceptical young audience that Catholicism isn't only for the old and the conservative. If in doubt of the symbolic power of Carlos Acutis, take a look at the stained-glass window featuring him that was installed in 2022 in St Aldhelm's Catholic Church in Malmesbury.
Unlike the medieval bishop in vestments and carrying a crozier in the window next door, he is depicted dressed in standard 2006 teenager garb, with a digital watch and a phone strapped to his rucksack. In other words: very ordinary, very now, yet simultaneously the Church has decided through its canonisation process someone extraordinary by dint of his religious devotion and his 'heroic virtue' in living his short life as 'a servant of God'.
These are the key qualities for any saint in Catholicism's famously lengthy rulebook. Francis had planned to preside at the canonisation ceremony last month (the latest of 900 saints he had made during his reign, 813 of whom came from the 15th century), but it was postponed as the seriousness of the health problems that led to his death became apparent.
No new date has yet emerged from his successor Leo XIV, but a popular American Catholic priest podcaster, David Michael Moses, is upping the ante by telling his 330,000 YouTube followers that the new pope already has a special connection with Carlo Acutis. That, he hopes, will mean that the canonisation could take place soon and be the first of this pontificate.
The bond between the two rests, Moses enthuses, on the fact young Carlo did his secondary education at the Leo XIII Institute in Milan. 'What are the chances,' he says in his folksy way, 'that the school he's attending when he dies was named after Pope Leo XIII, the predecessor of our new Pope Leo XIV, the pope that Leo XIV says inspired him to choose the name? How cool is that?'
And there is more. 'If that wasn't enough, listen to this quote from Carlo Acutis. 'I offer all the suffering I will have to suffer for the lord, for the pope, and for the Church.''
It might not pass muster as a watertight argument in a court of law, but in the Vatican, the Dicastery for the Causes of Saints, which has been in charge of saint-making for centuries, assesses evidence in a very different way.
Acutis, the boy now also referred to as 'God's Influencer', was born in 1991 in west London and baptised in Our Lady of Dolours parish in Chelsea. His Italian mother Antonia and half-Italian, half-English father Andrea moved to Milan six months later and raised their only child there. Early on, his banker parents say, he showed a particular empathy and social conscience, saving up his pocket money to hand over to good causes that helped the poor, or standing up for those bullied at his school.
But it was the always present religious dimension in him that was so unusual in an age where church attendance, especially among the young in Italy, is in steep decline. When on family holidays at Centola in southern Italy, little Carlo would wander over as a child and join the group of old women who gathered each day to say the rosary on the beach. And it was Carlo who insisted on the family going to church each Sunday. Before that, his parents had been pretty much lapsed from the religion of their own upbringing.
As a teen, he would cook food and deliver it to those who were homeless and on the streets of Milan. He became a catechist aged 12 in his local parish of Santa Maria Segreta, preparing younger children for their first communion. Next, the skills he mastered early with digital and computer technology saw him producing the parish newsletter and compiling and updating a public website that collected all reported miracles around the world attributed to the Virgin Mary and the Eucharist.
It is all the more remarkable that he did all this while limiting himself to one hour a day on screens, his mother later stressed. When diagnosed with incurable leukaemia in 2006, he told her, 'I die happy because I didn't spend any minutes of my life on things God doesn't love.'
For some parents, a child self-limiting to an hour of screen time per day would count as a miracle in itself, but the Vatican has a higher bar. To be declared a saint, there has to be evidence presented that praying to the candidate had precipitated two separate miraculous events.
In 2020, the Vatican department in charge of canonisation published evidence that prayers directed to God via Carlo Acutis had cured a Brazilian youngster, Mattheus Vianna, from a rare disease. Pope Francis accepted these findings, reached after interviewing around 500 people, including medical experts who, it was said, could come up with no other plausible explanation.
Then, in 2024, another report accepted that prayers made to Acutis had spared the life of a young woman in Florence who had had a bleed on her brain that doctors had said would kill her. There will, of course, be sceptics who question the science that leads to these conclusions, including many Catholics, who struggle to make sense of the randomness of these divine interventions when so many other tragedies occur each and every day.
Others, too, point to the cost of the Vatican process of discernment, which has to be met by those putting forward the candidate. Pope Francis did move – in line with his wider embrace of what he referred to as 'a poor Church, for the poor' – to cut these charges, but they remain considerable. It may explain why usually only religious orders can afford to immortalise their brethren or sisters. Or the occasional wealthy family.
Antonia Salzano, Carlo's mother, would add another miracle to the list. She was in her forties when her son died, and assumed she would never have another child. One night, he appeared to her in a dream and told her she would have twins. And, at 44, she did.
Quite how the Vatican could verify that as true is hard to imagine, but getting too wrapped up in the process risks missing the point. The Church gets many things wrong about human beings, but it also gets a lot right, including that we do respond well to role models being held up in front of us to emulate. It was doing it long before the advent of social media.
Moreover, there is an argument that connects the cult that has grown so quickly in recent years around Carlo Acutis with those others of his generation who, a recent survey by the Bible Society reported, are returning to the pews in surprising numbers. Perhaps the Church isn't quite so old-fashioned and otherworldly as we like to think.