Though its Christian majority is readily apparent, the U.S. has innumerable other devotional followings. From Catholics to Pentecostals and Native Americans to Voodooists, there is no place as wildly diverse on the planet! In the third and final episode of my Travel Channel series, Miracle Quest (airing at 8 PM on Friday night) I investigate the differences between these unique cultural miracles, and uncover the extraordinary origins behind them. How real are crosses of light and the healings associated with them? Are Serpent handlers really immune to the dangers of snakes, poison, and fire? Can eating dirt actually heal the sick? Do Voodoo miracles extend beyond zombies and dolls? And what does the birth of a White Buffalo portend for our future? I sift through the improbable and inexplicable in a country that is one of the top 3 places in the world where miracles are reported and where 82% of the people believe that God still works miracles today.

Santa Fe, N.M.
Unexplained Healings

* Located 25 miles north of Santa Fe, the little mountain town of Chimayo is known as the "Lourdes of America." A small church there, El Santuario de Nuestro Senor de Esquipulas (The Shrine of Our Lord of Esquipulas), draws nearly 300,000 people a year from around the world for its healing powers.

* A tiny well of dirt, from the area in the chapel's floor that once held the miraculous cross, is said to heal the sick. This "tierra bendita" is why many pilgrims make the journey to the tiny pueblo church.

Appalachian Mountains (East of Knoxville, Tenn.)
Edwina Church of God in Jesus Christ's Name

* There are 75 serpent-handling churches in southern Appalachia (Tennessee).
* Members believe in the signs of the Book of Mark, passage 16.
* The practice is illegal, but we were able to film the sermon and the Pastor handling poisonous snakes.

Twenty Miles Outside Flagstaff, Ariz.
Legend of the White Buffalo

* The only white buffalo herd in existence lives 20 miles from Flagstaff.
* A white buffalo is extremely rare and said to be a sign from nature.
* According to Native American mythology, a white buffalo is said to bring harmony and peace to her tribe.
* The herd, which now numbers eight buffalo, resides at the Spirit Mountain Ranch. Owned by Jim and Dena Riley, the ranch can be seen on the way to the Grand Canyon.
* Native American legend holds that white buffalo can heal the sick..
* In the 1800s, the U.S. government advocated for the destruction of the white buffalo to subdue native tribes.

New Orleans
Voodoo

* In this ancestral religion, the spiritual world takes center stage, and miracles are a part of everyday life.

* Voodoo originated in West Africa. It was brought over to the New World by African slaves, who continued to practice some of its rituals.

Ok, no new pics from the first day for you guys - I had not figured out how to use my camera yet. My little brother Breandan, 11 (important I get that right - I said he was 10 once on TV and I have not heard the end of it!) worked with me for the day doing the ipod, computer, all technology things, he was a total whiz. Added all the receipts up and everything - I was very proud of him. It goes without saying my dad was a champ and pretty much packed everything up while I continued to write and run errands. I was in Philadelphia and D.C. for the week - for those who saw me on Extra, I was pretty busy so things got hectic before leaving.

Was at my gate 2 hrs. early - Philly airport rocks, more than I can say
for Gatwick, England (whoa nightmare). Got to ride First Class, not bad
huh? I can remember when I was younger (I use to have to fly back and
forth every week between Detroit and Philly, Northwest Airlines, during my parents' custody battle) I would peer up when they pulled back the curtain and I dreamed that I would one day get to sit up there. I still never have on domestic - simply not worth it - but since I was on the clock, who was I to argue, right? Flying to Europe first class is a big difference - there are even beds - it was very exciting!

Well, my whirlwind journey through Italy ended today on a high note - literally. Yesterday I spent the morning in the marvel of Vatican City and spoke with a charming, thoughtful, and intelligent miracle seeker. Being a miracle seeker is actually his job. He is a Jesuit Priest and one of the members for the Congregation for the Causes of the Saints. They review purported miracles to decide whether the Church will authenticate them and Canonize the person responsible for said miracles as a Saint.

The process is vigorous and involves medical and scientific examinations, anecdotal evidence, witnesses, and most importantly evaluating the effects the miracles have had and the way the person lived their life. They also consider the person's ability to provide positive intercessory power even in death. The way I see it is that a person who is deemed a Saint is someone who above all lived an exemplary life and since nothing is ever a sure thing one the Church can say is "approved" with moral certitude. A human being, because only God can perform miracles according to the church, but a human being that can be looked upon as a model for behavior and a friend you can go to for advice and help.

The Father, Profesor, and Doctor (when I interviewed him I had a funny moment where I met him and could not figure out which title to use) told me that ordinary people have the capacity for the miraculous; if in their goodness, they allow God to work through them in extraordinary ways. That as much as the process uses countless more objective parameters he noted is the beginning stage. Much like a dog can sniff out a good person so can one know when there is one person who is more special than the others, one person who is in the inner circle if you will of God because they have been a good friend to Him. Between smiles and wiping of his brow (which was sweating under the hot Roman sun) he quoted Mother Theresa, one of the great saints of our time, as saying "I hold the pencil, but it is God who writes."

Today I go to a church in Lanciano, Italy to see the first Eucharistic Miracle on record. Over 1200 years ago a monk who was struggling with his faith and having a hard time understanding the Catholic belief that the bread and wine served during communion transforms into the blood and body of Christ got a little help. OK, a lot of help. The bread and wine turned to actual flesh and blood before his eyes.

It has been here ever since with no trace of preservatives, yet the blood has the quality of that of one shed today. There have been hundreds of tests performed on it and no scientist can figure out what is going on. I am going to check it out for myself.

After I see it with my own eyes I am going to meet with a scientist and a monk to get their takes and then it is off to Rome and Vatican City. Apropos of the Vatican, here (after the jump) is my latest op-ed column.

Ciao

I told you the blogging from yours truly would be light, and I dont like to disappoint. The hotel that had an "International Business Center" was more like an International Janitors closet, complete with a wire hanging from the ceiling where you plug it in. Suffice to say that the writing conditions have not been ideal from a technological standpoint.

Also, I must tell you that at first I thought I would want to share and write about all of the amazing places I am going to so you could feel like you were going along with me, and I do, but I need more time to give it justice. So many of the things I have seen and heard are ineffable, a fancy word for things that can not be explained by words. I promise to do my best though.

As you can tell, I found an internet cafe. I am in the middle of a beautiful place, San Giovanni Rotundo. Last night I walked in the feast of Padre Pio, a beloved saint. I was one of about 60,000. People from all over the world, Africa, Europe, America, even South Philly. Most were Christians, but there were nonbelievers and many from other faiths as well - people who wanted to share in a fun and festive night, capped off with fireworks.

In fact, the internet cafe I am in right now is owned by a Bangladeshi man who is a devout Muslim who reads the Koran daily. When I asked him why he was at the Festival last night he told me, "because I love Padre Pio and I believe in him" I then followed up with what I thought was an obvious question, "don't you see a conflict between being a practicing Muslim and believing in Padre Pio?" He looked at me with a bewildered look and said Perque? "Why? But everyone who sees Padre Pio believes in Padre Pio and everyone who comes here knows that he performs miracles, during his life yes, but also now in death."

Yesterday, I tried to think like an alien. If there is extraterrestrial life intelligent enough to travel the galaxies to our little marble, where should they land? What is the emblematic city of humanity, the best one for them to judge our civilization by?

As a Philly girl it is hard for me to admit that the best candidate might well be here in Paris, a city of such dignity, beauty, culture, history and je ne sais quoi. Of course, we don't have proof that extraterrestrials are really out there - but some of us, with firmest conviction, still believe they are.

Along the banks of the Seine, in full view of majestic Notre Dame - its centuries of accumulated dirt and dust recently powerwashed away - I had the most stirring conversation with a man who boasts a very strange title. His name was Patrick Berger, a genial enough Frenchman with small stylish spectacles and the customary slim cigarette slung from his mouth. Monsieur Berger has made a career out of Doubt - he is a professional Skeptic. For many, this word conjures a curmudgeonly naysayer who will tell you the grass is blue and the sky green just for the sake of contradicting your simpleton observations.

But Patrick Berger was not some smug cad who blew smoke in my face, or thought someone had blown smoke up my you-know-what, when I discussed the validity of miracles with him. He was instead a young, well-spoken and affable man who was simply not content with the veneer of things that so many of us are content with. He had to look deeper.