Category: Real Testimonies

Princess Alexandra Of Hanover Has Been Removed From The British Line Of Succession After Converting To Catholicism. 

Princess Alexandra Of Hanover Has Been Removed From The British Line Of Succession After Converting To Catholicism. 

Princess Alexandra of Hanover has been removed from the British line of succession according to Point de Vue-magazine.

The 19-year-old princess is the daughter of Prince Ernst August of Hanover and Princess Caroline of Monaco. The Princess has recently become a member of the Catholic Church and this is the reason she has been removed from the British line of succession. However, she remains the 12th in the line of succession to the Monegasque throne.

Princess Alexandra of Hanover is the only child of Prince Ernst August of Hanover and Princess Caroline of Monaco. She was born on July 20, 1999, at Vöcklabruck, in Upper Austria. Alexandra is the only one of Princess Caroline’s four children who bear any royal style or title.

She was christened as a Lutheran as the rest of the family on 19 September 1999 by Horst Hirschler, the Landesbischof of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church of Hanover, in a ceremony at her father’s hunting lodge Auerbach.

Her godparents are her paternal aunt Alexandra, Princess of Leiningen, maternal half-sister Charlotte Casiraghi, Ulrike Ulmschneider, Maryam Sachs, Virginia Gallico, George Condo, and Eric Maier.

Princess Caroline, her mother, has always been a Catholic. Now, the Princess has decided to leave her Lutheran faith and become a Catholic, as her mother is.

Princess Alexandra’s maternal uncle is Albert II, the sovereign of Monaco. She is a granddaughter of the American actress Grace Kelly and on her father’s side, she is a descendant of both Queen Victoria of Great Britain and Emperor Wilhelm II of Germany.

The British succession-law were changed in 2011 with the Perth Agreement. However the ban on Catholics and other non-Protestants becoming sovereign and the requirement for the sovereign to be in communion with the Church of England remained.

My Wife Is Catholic Because Of Pope Paul VI.

My Wife Is Catholic Because Of Pope Paul VI.

My Wife is Catholic Because of Pope Paul VI.

We couldn’t be more grateful to those faithful Catholics who brought us sweetly and courageously into the Church, and now, we await the official recognition that Pope Paul VI is a saint.

Several months ago Edward Pentin broke the news to the Register audience that Pope Paul VI was being canonized. There is perhaps no greater pope that has made a more significant impact on my marriage than Pope Paul VI. And currently living in Italy, this was exciting news. “Perhaps I can get tickets to the Mass” was the main thought for months. 

But the process of getting tickets to a papal Mass at the Vatican is not a simple one. Actually, yes, it is simple. Maybe too simple. All you have to do is write a letter to the correct office with the name of the person or group, and how many tickets you want. There’s no strict provision for who gets a ticket, and actually, nobody really knows if they have a ticket until they arrive to pick them up. This is the common process. I’m sure insiders have a different means, but this is the way I had to get them. Again, pretty simple, but plenty of gray area, too. Imagine showing up to pick up tickets that were never reserved for you.

Well, gratefully, I have tickets. I found that out only a week ago! Train tickets were booked months ago, accommodations have been paid for, and my wife and I are entirely beside ourselves to be part of this glorious event. And again, Pope Paul VI has a significant influence on my marriage. 

The thing is, in a way, Pope Paul VI brought my wife into the Catholic Church. You can see my full story from my appearance on The Journey Home in 2017, but in short, I came into the Church after a months-long feud with a Catholic friend, attempting to prove him wrong on the Catholic Faith. But after countless late nights of reading the Church Fathers and history books from secular and Catholic authors, I was entirely convinced that the Catholic Church of today was remarkably visible in the early Church. In fact, it was the only faith I saw in the early Church—enough said! So I chose to convert and entered into RCIA.

Meanwhile, my wife was pregnant with our first. She had complications up front and was highly un-interested in hearing about my hopes of finding truth in the Catholic Church. Soon, though, God made a path for her by having a friend recommend a specialist. Actually, the specialist. She was referred to none other, than Dr. Tomas Hilgers, founder of the Pope Paul VI Institute and a worldwide authority in women’s reproductive healthcare. I knew we were getting good care, but it was heartwarming to pray for my spouse and see a certificate of papal blessing from Pope Paul VI hanging in the lobby at the Institute. Because of his outstanding teachings provided in Humanae Vitae, Dr. Hilgers named the apostolate after the pontiff. 

Soon, my wife would come home telling me how confident she was in her pregnancy, how heartwarming the physicians were, and how much care they placed into her as a woman and not just a client. Over time, she was overtaken by their generosity and their clear devotion to something deeply important to her: life.

Nine months after I entered the Catholic Chruch, her decision was permanent, and she was confirmed on the First Sunday of Advent. All thanks, in a unique way through the wisdom of Pope Paul VI, my wife entered the Catholic Church. 

Now, we have four kids. Oh my gosh—writing that is still a wake-up call for me! 

And today, we’re all here, in Rome, less than 15 hours from his canonization Mass. We couldn’t be more grateful to those faithful Catholics who brought us sweetly and courageously into the Church, and now, we await the official recognition that Pope Paul VI, born Giovanni Montini in 1897, will enter into a permanent state of recognition for his pivotal life and shepherding of the Church at a critical time in its history.  

Written by Shaun McAfee for National Catholic Register

Archangel Michael’s Presence Is Still Felt At Mysterious, Potent Cave In Italy. 

Archangel Michael’s Presence Is Still Felt At Mysterious, Potent Cave In Italy. 

I have been to a number of holy places — spots where there is an especially powerful presence, the actual feeling of something supernatural. On this list would be the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem; the Cathedral of the Holy Shroud; the chapel of the apparitions at Fatima; the Lourdes grotto; and where I am right now, apparition hill in Medjugorje in Bosnia-Hercegovina.


These are all powerful places and in their midst I would also rank the Cave of the Archangel Michael — in fact, it is right there are the top. This is a grotto in eastern Italy, and believe me, there is a presence here. There is the real feeling of St. Michael. 


When I visited the cave in 1990, a man sitting before the statue of Michael was going through a spontaneous deliverance as a demon that had obviously inhabited him screeched and yelled as the Holy Spirit sought to cast it out.


I have a stone from the cave that I treasure as one of my most powerful relics. And a picture of the archangel that I bought at the cave — yes, a cave, not a church — is so potent that we have adopted it as an official devotional for my website.


I have heard from others who have told me about encountering angels on the way to the cave or of simply experiencing the kind of feeling that is rare outside of the most famous sites of apparition.


But thats happens at Monte Gargano (where the cave is located): there is a feeling that can only be compared to spots like Mount Krizevac or the Church of the nativity, and it only makes sense when we take a look at the history — the long history — of this place.


Located in stony hillsides not far from San Giovanni Rotundo (where St. Pio lived), the cave is reached by walking 86 steps subdivided into five flights and interrupted by four landings. It is a mysterious place, the galleries supported by big Gothic arches and ogival vaults, the side walls are illuminated by small windows.


But most mysterious is the history: in 404 A.D. a wealthy man, frustrated when one of his cattle refused to move from the entrance of the cave, took up his bow and sent an arrow toward the animal — an arrow that then whirled like a boomerang and came back to wound the archer!


So frightened was the man that he went to see the bishop of Siponto, who in praying for an answer experienced the apparition of Michael. the archangel identified himself as the angel “who ever stands before the Lord” and who was “keeping this place under my special protection.”


Although there is a basilica in the cave, it has never been consecrated by the Church because the Church considers it the only basilica consecrated already by an actual angel!


In another instance when Neopolitans decided to wage war on Siponto, Michael appeared again to the bishop assuring him of victory. As soon as the attack began, all of Monte Gargano was enveloped by a dark cloud that shot forth lightning of such strength as to chase away the enemy.


No wonder the power is still felt. Let us take a lesson from it on the archangel’s tremendous intervention. Michael! He is the angelic prince of Israel, guardian of Jacob, known in Islamic writing as Mikail. Some say he’s the author of Psalm 85. in Jewish lore it’s even believed that the fire Moses saw in the burning bush had Michael’s appearance. Christians invoke him as the angel of deliverance. This is a mighty intercessor who can help you in many distressing situations. Invoke him. Do his novena. Ask for his help. He is stronger than anything bad. Who is like unto God?” was Michael’s war cry against the fallen angels.  


This story was written By Michael H. Brown.

An Experience With The Archangel Michael. 

An Experience With The Archangel Michael. 

l

An experience with the Archangel Michael.

It was the autumn of 1983. The best I can remember, it was September. I don’t know the precise date. It would be neat if it had been this date, the 29th. I didn’t keep a diary. But I didn’t need one to recall the details.


At the time, I was living the “fast track,” the high life, of New York. Although born in Niagara Falls, I had gone to Fordham, a Jesuit university in The Bronx, and had moved to Manhattan’s Upper East Side after a brief stint as a newspaper reporter, during which I had been involved in the discovery of a famous toxic waste dump named Love Canal.


This had propelled my career as a writer, and at the time I was working on a book about the Mafia. I wrote about an experience from this the other day (see “A spiritual brush with a mob hitman”).  It was one of many such experiences, some of which I will be sharing in days ahead. As I said, it was the fast track, and in addition to my research on organized crime, I had also written books on toxic-waste scandals, and (stupidly enough) on psychic phenomena and haunted houses. In fact I had just “investigated” a supposedly “haunted” house (in reality it was demon-infested) in the Chelsea section of Manhattan. 


Anyway, I was a 31-year-old writer doing what he had always aspired to doing: writing, appearing on national TV, lecturing at colleges for excessive fees, making enough money to live in a luxury high rise and eat in the ritzy cafes every night of the week. I was what you might call a “swinging bachelor.” I admired people like Hugh Hefner. I’m not proud of it. I wasn’t an evil person, but I certainly wasn’t good, and one Friday night that September after coming home earlier than usual I feel asleep and awoke because of an amazing dream.


In the dream, I was on a bed that was like a hospital gurney, and it was in my foyer facing the door of my 12th-floor apartment. Around me were three or four spirits with their hands over me, two on each side, as if they were praying. I wasn’t allowed to look straight at them, but I had the impression they were thin pencil-like figures of light who could appear in any form they wanted. They were uttering what seemed like an ancient language. “Who are you?” I asked the one on my left, who seemed to be in charge.


“My name is Michael,” said this entity (for lack of a better term). “Now look!” He indicated towards the door, and on that door I saw the most frightening thing of my life: the face of the devil or at least a major demon, etched and yet alive, living, sneering, full of a hatred I had never before seen and could not hope to adequately describe.


I woke up in a sweat. I paced a while, probably had a cigarette back then. Looked out the window. Below, the last of the stragglers were leaving the cafes along Third Avenue. It was probably between three and four a.m.


Finally I got back to sleep, but immediately lapsed into the same dream. It didn’t seem like a dream, but more like a vision. It continued where it had left off. “I told you, look,” said the one who had called himself Michael“Now say, ‘Vanish!'”


I could never imitate the power behind those words. Instantly his words had made that awful evil face on the door, the hollowed cheeks, the pointy goatee, disappear.


I didn’t have the courage or faith to do what he said. Instead I woke up and this time was the most terrified of my life. It was far scarier than anything the Mafia or haunted houses could dish up. I was probably up close to an hour, smoking, wanting to call someone, pacing. But who was I to call? At the time my two best friends were reporters for The New York Times, which for all practical purposes meant they were atheists. 


Finally, I forced myself back to sleep and the dream again continued where it had left off. The one who said he was Michael told me again to say, “Vanish!” Somehow, I came up with the faith. I came up with the courage! When the awful face materialized, I raised my right hand and shouted “VANISH!” 


Suddenly and to my amazement the face disappeared and so did the angels and I got up from the “gurney” and walked to the door. As I did I could see that where the face had been was now a set of keys. When I took them and looked at them a tag indicated the address of that haunted house in Chelsea.


I had been brushing up against evil in many ways, and now the devil was at my door.


It was part of my coming back to Christ. I hadn’t been to church regularly since junior high school, but now went back. Did I! Around this time I became a daily communicant. It was almost instant. There were other experiences. I came back through both Catholicism (a church on 90th Street called Our Lady of Good Counsel), and also through a non-denominational group of pentecostals, evangelicals, and charismatics on the Lower East Side. And I came back in a big way. Although I know there are those who would question the entire experience, there was a reality to it and it wasn’t evil. I believe they were angels — because right after that I learned that my mother had been invoking Michael and had bought me a statue of him (which to this day is next to the bed).


As I said, this helped lead me back to Christ, and to a journey away from secular journalism and to writing spiritual books. Eventually, it also lead to this website, Spirit Daily. We have been up and running since May 13, and in that time it has been amazing. We have had many thousands of “hits.” We saw a peak on June 26 when by God’s grace we were allowed to get a jump on releasing the third secret of Fatima (there is still a bit of newsman in me). 


Today, the feast of the Archangel Michael, we are beginning official operation, and dedicating the site to the greatest of all angels, the one who saved me as he had also helped Daniel (Daniel 10:13), the one for whom I had been named, the one who battles Lucifer tirelessly, the one who will cast him down forever in the end (Revelation 12:7) — the one who has no fear as we too must have no fear at a time when we must confront the face of the devil and make him vanish from our culture with the same question, the same insistence, that Michael once spoke, with the same courage and strength as when, casting out Satan, who pretended to the Throne, the angel shouted with a voice I think I also heard,  with a voice of overwhelming power, with one that should now — must now — resonate around the world“Who is like unto God?”


This true Story was written By Michael H. Brown, on September 29, 2000 on his blog spiritdaily.com

%d bloggers like this: