The day has finally arrived when we celebrate the canonization of Pier Giorgio Frassati and Carlo Acutis — two vibrant young men who show that holiness doesn’t erase humor, it highlights it.
Pier Giorgio Frassati, the mountaineering “Man of the Beatitudes,” was also the prank mastermind of his friend group, the Tipi Loschi. On retreats, he was notorious for short-sheeting beds — including those of the priests (the temerity!). To add to the mischief, he’d then sneak in with a toy trumpet to rouse sleepy companions and then march them off to a hidden chapel for Mass.
One memorable ruse was when he arranged for a professor to receive a mysterious package mid-exam. The class watched as it began to drip all over the professor's desk: inside was melting ice cream.
Oh, but he didn't stop there. For another friend leaving for England, Pier Giorgio crafted a candy “chain,” so when the gift was tugged, a hilarious garland spilled out. His pranks weren’t cruel; they were affectionate, keeping joy at the center of faith, as shared by Frassati USA.
The website dedicated to the saint also includes memories of his Salesian friend Father Rinaldo Ruffini, S.D.B., who warmly recalls:
“He was infused with constant joy, a joy that was sometimes explosive, and he surpassed just about everyone with his bottomless bag of noisy pranks.”
Fast-forward almost a century, and Carlo Acutis carried that same joyful mischief. His middle-school religion teacher, Sister Monica Ceroni, recalled to Catholic News Agency: “He was certainly not a perfect student… sometimes forgot his homework or showed up late. But he had a ‘healthy curiosity’ and ‘wanted to get to the bottom of things.’”
She also affirmed: “He was also a real joker,” remembering how his playful energy and lightheartedness lit up the classroom — and gently nudged others toward faith. Religion classes weren’t just lessons; for Carlo, they were moments when “he was more passionate than others and more alive when religion class was on.”
Disarmingly human saints
Like Pier Giorgio, Carlo’s humor never distracted from his faith; it embodied it. He could spend recess kicking a soccer ball and then slip into the chapel before the next bell. He befriended classmates who were struggling or left out, his gentle jokes and laughter becoming a bridge to kindness.
What’s striking is how both young men — decades apart — show that holiness and humor aren’t enemies. Joy rooted in Christ spills out in laughter, teasing, and yes, pranks. It’s precisely this quality that resonates with young people today. They’re not presented with saints too polished to be real, but with friends who laughed, goofed around, and still found time to kneel.
In Pier Giorgio’s case, his friends testified that even while laughing till their sides hurt, he’d redirect the fun to prayer or service. With Carlo, his teachers noticed the same paradox: imperfect schoolboy, yes — but transparently in love with God.
Together they show us that holiness doesn’t mean erasing humor or hiding quirks. It means letting joy become a doorway for others. And perhaps that’s the most timeless prank of all: saints who surprise us not by being untouchable, but by being disarmingly, contagiously human.
