To prepare for a trip to Assisi that will take in some sites related to St. Carlo Acutis, I decided to read something about him, and stumbled upon this powerful and tender book by his mother in a Dublin bookshop. In some ways, it feels like an astounding phenomenon to have access to the thoughts of the still-living mother of a soon-to-be-canonized saint. Carlo is known as the Patron Saint of the Internet, due to his coding skills, which were used to build various religious websites. This is more immediate than the stories of saints that children were exposed to in the Ireland in which I grew up, which mostly originated from ancient manuscripts, though were often fascinating nonetheless.
The saints in an Irish context were usually quite subversive of the established (pagan) order. In an Ireland of the 1970s and '80s, where the Church and state were still locking 'wayward' women in laundries to do penance for life, including victims of rape and/or incest, the saints were one way of clinging to a sense of the numinous. The idea that there were people who had existed once who fully got the point of Christianity seemed like an important one to retain.
St. Brigid, who now has a national holiday associated with her (belatedly), was probably the most subversive of all of these, annoying her wealthy, unscrupulous father by giving away his goods to the poor, then later travelling around the country founding monastic communities and performing copious miracles.
Due to the dark parts of Ireland's soul, which were not yet exposed to the light in the '80s, the saints provided a spiritual hope that was sometimes difficult to find elsewhere. If the kids around you were talking about an authority figure who was preying on them (maybe not a priest, but invariably someone bound up with the church in some manner), you had the saints (and in my case, Bob Dylan albums) to save you from total cynicism. For this reason, I always had a hugely soft spot for the saints. They seemed like rockstars, but without the problematic egos and worldliness, going around exposing corruption and spreading expanding cloaks to build houses dedicated to God, their lives a testimony to an undomesticated love that ran contrary to that country club-style Christianity preoccupied with class and respectability that suffused Ireland for many years. That was a social order in which the poor, oppressed, and meek were all too often swept under the carpet.
Despite being exposed to many of these stories related to Celtic Christianity, these figures were somewhat remote from present-day reality. In Italy, on the other hand, saints seem to still proliferate in recent history, and it's easy to understand why, considering the magnificent sacred architecture and heritage everywhere you look there. While the Assisi trip was originally planned to honour a debt to St. Francis, outstanding since 2006, Carlo Acutis is also buried in Assisi, according to his wishes. Apart from summers, he lived mostly in Milan with his very devoted parents.
Antonia Salzano Acutis writes with immense love and moving eloquence about her son, who by all accounts was an extraordinarily religious person with a highly mature faith from a very young age. His journal entries, quoted at length in this book, attest to a spiritual awareness and wisdom that is almost unheard of in any child or teenager, or indeed most adults. His theological knowledge was obviously deep and infused with passion. Whereas even the most committed of Catholics or Christians stumble through life, working out our salvation in painful increments, learning bits and pieces about our tradition as we go along, making reparations belatedly for missteps we only realise late in the day were missteps, Carlo's entire life was about finding ways to get close to Jesus, essentially from toddlerhood.
After spreading cheer and help to many, Carlo died suddenly of an acute form of leukemia in 2006. It was a form of the illness in which symptoms remain hidden until the late stages, so his death truly came as a shock to his family and community. His 15 years on the planet seem to have affected many people for the better, and will likely have a positive ripple effect for generations.
The hundreds of people who turned up to the overflowing church for his funeral included many homeless from the streets of Milan. He had brought them hot meals on a regular basis after discussing the practicalities with his parents. His generosity and kindness to his schoolfriends who were in trouble due to peer pressure or broken homes was also a feature of his life, despite the fact that he was often bullied in school himself. An inevitable form of spiritual tall poppy syndrome meant that various aspects of his character were difficult for his peers to understand; yet he apparently never complained or refused to come to the aid of a schoolfriend in trouble.
This is a fascinating and heart-rending book. Many might find humour in an Italian mother writing a hagiography of her son (the same would apply if it was an Irish mother). However, in this case, the son is actually a bona fide saint, and his mother is quick to point out some of Carlo's flaws, which he worked assiduously to overcome. (Just to note, by the standards of teenagers, they are minuscule.) The canonization process is rigorous, and can often take centuries to complete, but in the case of Carlo, it took 14 years. Testimonies of his kindness, unpretentiousness, and love for humanity, and indeed for animals (especially his beloved dogs), came from many sectors of society. What a privilege it must have been to know him.