Till Death Read Online Free PDF

No one in the diocese would be masochistic enough to find pleasure in being sent on such a mission.
    His sentence ran from 1980 to 1985. Father Rick Casserly had been rescued a full ten years before Anderson’s arrival, having served from 1965 to 1970. St. Ursula’s was the maiden voyage for each of these two priests; interestingly—amazingly—neither had been embittered by the experience.
    When Anderson appeared on the scene, even though Casserly had been out of the picture for a decade, his reputation still flourished. Casserly was known by many parishioners as “the priest who smiled”—an allusive commentary on the atmosphere that prevailed in the face of Father Angelico’s irascible despotism.
    Anderson turned to Casserly for direction and support. Both were professionally offered.
    Privately, Anderson considered this assignment punishment for his sins. If fracturing seminary rules and regulations had been sinful, he might have had grounds for this conclusion. However, by the time he went through the seminary, discipline was on the wane. As the years of his training passed, fewer and fewer rules remained.
    Nonetheless, he’d never encountered a regulation that he hadn’t flouted or tried to violate.
    Ostensibly, seminary rules had weakened and grown fewer in number mostly because the student population also was decreasing. The seminary administration decided that possibly it was the rules and regulations that made it a challenge to recruit and/or retain students. Eventually the thinking was that if there were no rules whatsoever, many more young men would be attracted. The faculty actually reached that point and found that it didn’t work.
    Jerry Anderson’s personality was such that, metaphorically, he needed to kick against the fence of rules and regulations. When the rules disappeared so did his fence. But the testing, challenging spirit lingered on.
    In moments of serious reflection, he wondered why they’d ever accepted him into the seminary. A far deeper puzzle was why, even after all that mutual exposure, the seminary faculty had recommended him for ordination.
    His academic grades were merely adequate. His attitude toward rules was confrontational. His classroom demeanor, while attentive, bordered on disdain or downright hostility. Particularly when hard moral questions were raised he was wont to argue against the institutional Church—especially against the presumptions of Church law that almost always favored the institution, hardly ever the individual.
    On the positive side, he was a compelling speaker. Highly motivational, he related exceptionally well to youth. He had a good sense of humor, a quality not easily glossed over.
    He claimed to be six feet tall. Close; actually he was more like five foot ten. He loved sports and participated at every opportunity. It was no surprise his body was firm and well muscled. His blond hair was full, though almost brush-cut short. His originally prominent nose had been broken twice, once playing football, the other time on the basketball court. His style of play raised basketball from a noncontact game to a collision sport.
    In any case, after the second fracture, a plastic surgeon gave him a new and more classically perfect profile. Fortunately his nose had not been broken since.
    All of this, together with a ton of naiveté, Anderson had brought with him to his first assignment at St. Ursula’s parish.
    For a while, Father Angelico had Jerry Anderson cowed, though Anderson was not easily intimidated. That it took some time for him to flex his own personality spoke volumes for the depth of the pastor’s meanness. But by three years into his five-year tour of duty, Jerry Anderson had gotten his feet solidly beneath him.
    It was at this time that, in one of their routine changes of personnel, the teaching order of Theresians brought in a new face to teach a freshman high school class. Her formal name was Sister Mary Perpetua, Religious Sisters of St. Theresa