On a recent morning, visitors to a sanctuary in Assisi, Italy, overheard whispered prayers in several languages at the tomb of Carlo Acutis, who died of leukemia in 2006, at the age of 15. On Sunday, he is expected to become the Roman Catholic Church’s first millennial saint.
Born in London and raised in Italy, Carlo had a deep faith, according to those who campaigned for his sainthood, attending Mass regularly and volunteering in Catholic soup kitchens. But he also used his affinity for technology by creating a website listing Eucharistic miracles.
Since his remains were brought in 2019 to the sanctuary, pilgrims from across the world have flocked to pay respect, with the average age falling by a few decades, said the Rev. Domenico Sorrentino, the bishop of Assisi.
Last year, about a million people visited the tomb, Archbishop Sorrentino said, a number that is expected to grow this year.
He was “inspirational,” said Dominic Turco, 15, of Winthrop, Mass., who was visiting the church with his father.
Canonizations often respond to a need in the “larger culture” of the time, either those of the institutional church, or the needs of the faithful, said Kathleen Sprows Cummings, a history professor at the University of Notre Dame and expert on saints.
“With Carlo, certainly there’s the millennial angle,” she said. But, she added, at a time when society and the church are “very worried about the corrosive impact of technology,” from the internet to artificial intelligence, “he’s an example of a person who took the latest technology and then used it as a tool of evangelization. And that’s very appealing.”
Tim Moriarty, who directed a movie about Carlo, described him as “deeply Catholic, but deeply modern.” He understood technology’s dangers, the “potential to detach us from reality,” and at the same time was drawn to faith, even if he belonged to a generation that is considerably detached from faith.
Studies by universities, think tanks and research centers show that, especially in the West, many young people, even if they identify as spiritual, express skepticism of traditional religious institutions. There’s also an increase in people with no religious affiliation.
In Italy, about 30 percent of young people identify as having no religious beliefs, the same percent who identify as practicing Catholics, according to a report by the Giuseppe Toniolo Institute in Milan, said Fabio Introini, a sociologist at Milan’s Catholic Sacred Heart University.
Carlo, he said, is a point of convergence “between official religion and some forms of spirituality among young people.”
Church experts marvel at how quickly veneration to Carlo has spread worldwide. Social media helped spur the phenomenon. There are dozens of Facebook groups about him, and chapels and schools dedicated to him worldwide, from Peoria, Ill., to Goa, India.
Carlo was beatified, the penultimate step toward sainthood, in 2020. He was supposed to be canonized by Pope Francis in April, to coincide with the Jubilee of Teenagers, one of dozens of events scheduled during the 2025 Holy Year. But when Francis died, the canonization was put off till this month. As part of the process, two miracles were attributed to Carlo’s intervention, one in Brazil and one in Italy.
He was buried in Assisi so he could be close to St. Francis, to whom he was devoted, said his mother, Antonia Salzano. She will be present at the canonization in St. Peter’s Square on Sunday.
Inside the church, Carlo’s body is visible through a partially transparent tomb in the right aisle. He is wearing sneakers, jeans and a track suit jacket, his head resting on a pillow. His face was reconstructed with a silicone mask.
“It was wild seeing him,” said Dominic, the boy who was visiting the tomb with his father. “It’s like he was walking around and died yesterday.”
Part of Carlo’s appeal seems to be that young people can identify with him. He had the usual teenage interests, according to those who knew him, playing video games and sports, and hanging out with his friends. He’s often depicted wearing a red polo shirt and carrying a backpack, a now ubiquitous image in souvenir shops throughout Assisi.
Pope Francis often referred to the “holiness of our next-door neighbor, that anyone of us can be a saint, and that was Carlo,” said the Msgr. Anthony Figueiredo, an official for the diocese of Assisi. Today’s saints don’t have to build schools or hospitals or found religious orders, he added.
At his tomb on a recent day, people pressed images of Carlo against the glass, some kneeling, many praying, others moved to tears. Perched nearby, a nun gently nudged the pilgrims, “Please keep moving.”
Nerea Rano, one 20-something pilgrim, said that over the years she had prayed often to Carlo to assist her “with the problems typical of people my age.”
She attributed her completion of her degree in fine arts to his intercession. And now she was hoping he would help her find work.
He was easy to pray to, she said, “because he’s young. He speaks to the young. It’s like looking into a mirror.”
Elisabetta Povoledo is a Times reporter based in Rome, covering Italy, the Vatican and the culture of the region. She has been a journalist for 35 years.
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