By Joanna Puddister King
JACKSON – The late Bishop Emeritus Joseph N. Latino, retired bishop of Jackson, who died May 28 at the age of 83 is remembered as a gentle and humble shepherd.

A native of New Orleans, Bishop Latino was ordained a priest for the Archdiocese of New Orleans at St. Louis Cathedral on May 25, 1963. During his priesthood, Bishop Latino served in parishes in New Orleans, Metairie, Houma and Thibodaux. When the Diocese of Houma-Thibodaux was formed in 1977, he remained in the new diocese and served in many capacities including chancellor and vicar general. In 1983, Pope John Paul II named him a Prelate of Honor with the title of Monsignor.

He was appointed the 10th Bishop of Jackson on Jan. 3, 2003 and was installed on March 7, 2003 in the Cathedral of St. Peter the Apostle in Jackson, the place of his final resting place.

Msgr. Elvin Sunds, who served as vicar general for nine years under Bishop Latino and enjoyed his friendship for many years afterward, described him as a “humble, gentle and kind bishop.”

In his homily at a prayer vigil for Bishop Latino on June 8 at the Cathedral, Msgr. Sunds spoke about Bishop Latino’s episcopal motto – Ut Unum Sint – “that all may be one.”

The motto came from the Gospel passage of John that was read at the vigil, explained Msgr. Sunds. “In that Gospel Jesus is praying for his disciples, and he also prays, ‘For those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us.’”

“Jesus’ prayer is that through the proclaiming of the Gospel, may we all share together in the life of God as one. That was the motto and the focus of Bishop Latino’s episcopal ministry. He wanted all of us to be one in Christ Jesus. He promoted that unity in Christ,” said Msgr. Sunds.

During his years as bishop, Bishop Latino fostered Gospel-based social justice initiatives, lay leadership and vocations. During his tenure the office for the Protection of Children was established to help insure a safe environment for children in our churches, schools and communities.

Msgr. Sunds described Bishop Latino’s social justice work mentioning that he publicly addressed such issues as racism, the rights of immigrants, care for the poor, the death penalty, and the right to life of the unborn during his tenure.

Bishop Latino’s nephew and godson, Martin Joseph Latino delivered remarks about ‘Uncle Joe’ at the vigil service sharing stories of humor, of mystery and a little bit about his favorite movie “A Man for All Seasons.”

It is still as mystery to Martin Latino how his Uncle Joe was able to call him in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. At the time, Latino was the chief director of safety and was with the Mandeville Fire Department. With all of the cell towers down in the area, no one was able to receive any calls, but Uncle Joe got through.

“His message to me that day was don’t lose heart. Work hard. Restore your community. Be a leader and keep everyone safe. … I still to this day do not know how he was able to get through,” said Latino.

In attendance at the Mass of Christian Burial on June 9, were bishops from around the region with Archbishop Thomas J. Rodi of the Archdiocese of Mobile as celebrant, along with the priests of the Diocese of Jackson, seminarians, deacons and the people of the diocese. In his opening remarks, Archbishop Rodi extended his sympathy to Bishop Latino’s family, Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz and the people of the Diocese of Jackson.

“We gather here in sorrow over the loss of a powerful presence of a good man, a good priest, a good bishop, who in so many ways in his ministry blessed the people first in Louisiana, then in Mississippi,” said Archbishop Rodi.

During his homily at the funeral Mass, Bishop Kopacz recollected his first encounter with Bishop Latino seven and a half years ago at the Jackson airport. He recalled Bishop Latino smiling “to know he had a successor that was real,” laughed Bishop Kopacz. From that point the two grew in their friendship over the years and he shared stories of Bishop Latino’s background and interactions they had over the years through his last one hours before Bishop Latino’s death.

“My final encounter with Bishop Latino was sitting at his bedside within hours of his death, softly saying the rosary and praying … as he slowly passed from this world to the next. I spoke the words that he no longer could,” shared Bishop Kopacz.

He also gave thanks for Bishop Latino’s trustworthy service for nearly six decades, through times of strength and his experiences of accepting the changes in his health.

“In his retirement at times he grieved the physical limitations that prevented him from serving more actively in the diocese. But at the foot of the Cross, his ministry of prayer and presence was a treasure for us. And his early monastic formation served him well in his later years. He could be in that state for prayer and through it all he trusted in the Lord, who called him forth from his youth and in holy fear he grew old in God,” said Bishop Kopacz.

Diocesan chancellor, Mary Woodward also spoke at the vigil service on her special friendship with Bishop Latino, as he lifted up her talents, supported her and mentored her. The two of them, along with Bishop Houck, who passed in 2016, traveled to Rome many times. Woodward described the last trip they had to Rome for an ‘ad limina,’ where they also added a trip to Sicily to the Latino family’s ancestral hometown of Contessa Entellina.

Woodward described Bishop Latino as “energized” by the trip and said that he was excited that he would be able to celebrate a private Mass in the home church of his grandparents. “But when the doors opened the church was packed with the townspeople coming to see this bishop from America,” Woodward mused.

Bishop Latino was always there for her and she for him, making sure he was “ok” until the end of his earthly life, just as the women in the Gospel wanted to do for Jesus.

Most did not know that Bishop Latino was in constant pain for the last 40 years. “He had nerve pain in his legs and it never subsided,” said Woodward. “He bore that Cross with such grace and elegance.”

Through many surgeries over the years to help relieve the pain, Woodward often felt like a “cheerleader” who was there to “help him carry the Cross.”

“And that last day, … I felt like I went from helping him carry the Cross to being at the foot of the Cross. … It was a beautiful witness to ‘I’m in God’s hands. God’s going to take care of me. It’s ok,’” said Woodward who was with Bishop Latino up until his passing.

“I don’t ever think that I could say in a few minutes the profound impact he has had on me and on all of us.”
Woodward also took great care in organizing Bishop Latino’s vigil and Mass of Christian Burial, making sure all elements he wanted were included. As an “opera aficionado,” Woodward made sure to include some opera. During the vigil, Woodward included a piece from Cavalleria Rusticana by Pietro Mascagni. The significance being that Bishop Latino would come in most mornings into their shared office humming that tune. She even had to step away during the vigil upon hearing it.

“The witness of his life, the witness of him carrying that pain was something that strengthens me and I feel very privileged to have been able to walk that journey with him. I will be forever changed,” said Woodward.
“Well done, good and faithful servant.”

By Joe Lee
MADISON – In preparation for his retirement in June 2019, Msgr. Elvin Sunds purchased a pickup truck and a travel trailer with an eye on visiting national parks around the country. Aware of this, Bishop Joseph Kopacz alerted Sunds of ongoing pastoring opportunities in the small Alaskan town of Nome, should he want to venture that far. This year everything came together to make that road trip (actually an air trip) a reality.

“The bishop in Alaska has a real priest shortage up there, and congregations can go without Masses for long periods of time,” Sunds said. “I agreed to fill in for the pastor of St. Joseph Church in Nome for three weeks so he could visit his family in India.”

Sunds, who fills in at St. Francis of Assisi in Madison, flew out of Jackson on April 13, leaving behind muggy conditions and temperatures in the low 80s. He knew to pack a lot of clothing he would never use this time of year in Mississippi.

“Nome has a population of less than 4,000 and is a little over 100 miles below the Arctic Circle,” he said. “When I arrived, there was two feet of snow on the ground and temperatures were in the teens.
“The area is incredibly beautiful. It has mountains, valleys, tundra, coastal waters, rivers, lakes, and an abundance of wildlife. The scenery is particularly stunning in snow. It was a major site of the Alaskan gold rush of the early 1900s. Today gold mining is still the major industry.”

How utterly vast is Alaska? The annual Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race begins in Anchorage and finishes a jaw-dropping 1,049 miles later in Nome. To reach his destination, Sunds flew to Dallas, across the country to Seattle, then to Anchorage before a 90-minute flight (covering 540 miles) to Nome. He found the people to be friendly and warm, despite the many layers of dress.

“About half the people of Nome and St. Joseph Church are Eskimo and half are of European descent,” he said. “Life is simple, and people live simply. A lot of them are grateful for Mass being available, even once a month.”

“Houses are small and well-insulated because of the cost of heating. Winter temps often reach more than 30 below zero. Food and supplies are expensive because everything must be flown in. Fuel oil and gasoline is brought in by barge twice a year. Snowmobiles and four-wheelers outnumber cars and trucks, and all must be brought in by barge.”

The average attendance for the three weekends Sunds celebrated Mass at St. Joseph was 25, down due to COVID. Remarkably, the tiny parish serves three mission churches. The community of Teller is 71 miles from Nome by dirt road and impassable from October through May because of snow; they have Mass weekly from June to October.

Then there’s Kotzebue, 180 miles away by plane and offering Mass once a month. Finally. St. Joseph serves Diomede, an island 130 miles out on the Bering Sea and one mile from Russian territorial waters. Diomede has Mass twice a year since the island is only accessible by helicopter.

“What attracted me to the Jackson Diocese many years ago was Jackson being a mission diocese—only two percent of the population across the area was Catholic. The Diocese of Fairbanks is almost eleven times the area of the Diocese of Jackson, but most it is wilderness. It has 12,300 Catholics and only two active diocesan priests.

“There are sixteen other priests serving the diocese who are either members of a religious order or on temporary loan from other dioceses. This was a whole new experience of mission diocese.”
Sunds said his volunteer pastoring in Alaksa has given him a better understanding of the mission work of the church outside Mississippi and a deeper appreciation of the work of our own diocese. And he didn’t lose his sense of humor while pastoring in The Last Frontier.

“The only way to Nome is by plane or dogsled,” he said. “While all roads may lead to Rome, no roads lead to Nome.”

By Ann Rodgers Angelus News
CARTHAGE – For nearly a quarter century, Edgar Lopez was a pillar of St. Anne Church in Carthage, Mississippi. The devoted husband and father of three spent four years studying pastoral ministry to better lead prayer groups, youth ministry, and social outreach. He gave generously from his wages as a mechanic at a local poultry plant.
On Jan. 22, his charred remains were found with those of 18 others in and around a bullet-blasted truck in the Mexican-American border town of Camargo in Tamaulipas. Lopez, 49, an undocumented worker who had been deported to Guatemala after a notorious 2019 immigration raid on Mississippi poultry plants, had tried to return to his wife, children, and grandchildren in Carthage.

“People are in shock. They can’t believe that something like this could have happened,” said Father Odel Medina, a priest of the Missionary Servants of the Most Holy Trinity, and pastor of St. Anne.
Most of the dead had relatives among Carthage’s burgeoning population of indigenous Mayan workers from Guatemala. Poultry jobs were arduous, dirty, and dangerous, but paid more for an hour of labor than the Guatemalans would make in two days in their villages.
Most of the massacred migrants were from the desperately poor town of Comitancillo, seeking jobs in Carthage that Americans had long refused, Father Medina said.
He called it a bitter irony that, seven months after the government deported hundreds of undocumented poultry plant employees, they were declared “essential workers” during COVID-19.
“If they didn’t work, you would not have food on anyone’s table,” Father Medina said.
Lopez grew up in the village of Chicajala, where death from malnutrition is common. He had no shoes for school and was bullied by other students and teachers alike.
His response, Father Medina said, was to say, “I’d like to be a teacher and change the way they teach children.”
He left for Guatemala City in his teens, entering the United States in his mid-20s. He was deported a year later, but soon returned to his wife and baby in Carthage. They bought a modest house in which they raised three children, now ages 11 to 21.
He organized the first Spanish Masses at St. Anne. In addition to being a lector, extraordinary minister of Holy Communion, and youth minister, Lopez was the head of the St. Anne “directiva,” a pastoral advisory board that looked after the needs of the Latino community. He spent four years studying for certification in Hispanic ministry through the Southeast Pastoral Institute in Miami.
Whether he was in a leadership role or simply participating, “he was always at the service of others,” Father Medina wrote in the parish newsletter.
Juanatano Cano, who ministers among Guatemalans in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, never met Lopez, but had a parallel childhood. Their adulthoods diverge because Cano, a leadership development consultant who is finishing his doctorate, received asylum and working papers after entering the U.S. illegally in the late 1980s.
Cano pins their early hardships on prejudice against their indigenous heritage.
“Racism in Guatemala is worse than in the United States. To call someone ‘an Indian’ is the worst insult if they want to humiliate someone,” he said.
He described indigenous Guatemalans as descendants of those who survived the Spanish conquest 500 years ago by fleeing to the hinterlands. No government has ever tried to integrate them into the Guatemalan economy.
“There was no money for education or health care for us,” he said, “According to the government, we are an obstacle to the prosperity of the whole country.”
People in Cano’s village were stunted physically and intellectually from malnutrition. “They said that we are stupid, that we don’t want to learn, that we don’t want to succeed,” he said.
In 1981, Guatemala’s long-running civil war escalated. “I saw the military bombing little towns and little Indian villages. I told my mom, ‘Let’s get out of here. They are going to wipe us out,’ ” Cano said.
She would not leave. So in 1982, at age 13, he left alone for the city. There he did housework in exchange for room and board, while attending night school. When his high school diploma brought no opportunities for advancement, he traveled by bus and train through Mexico, walking across the border into California.
“At that time it was not as bad as it is now,” he said.
He graduated from college, taught math for 15 years, earned his principal’s certificate, then made a career shift to leadership formation. He is a consultant to the U.S. Catholic Bishops’ Subcommittee on Native American Affairs and volunteers at Immaculate Conception Church, Holy Cross Church, and La Placita Church in LA.
Today’s Guatemalan migrants bring the same dreams and needs that he did, he said. He blames the government of Guatemala for their suffering.
Even by U.S. standards, health care costs are high in Guatemala, he said. At least two migrants killed with Lopez were seeking jobs to pay for relatives’ medical care: surgery for a baby with a cleft lip and medication for a mother with diabetes.
“These people died because they wanted to make a little money for surgery that was so basic. Why does the Guatemalan government ignore this? Why? Why? It makes me sick to think about it,” he said.
“That is why people leave their country. They are aware that it is dangerous, but they take the risk, even knowing it could be deadly.”
Smugglers, known as “coyotes,” are luring customers with claims that the Biden administration has opened the border, Cano said.
“They are telling them to come and the United States will accept you and give you legal status,” Cano said. “They are lying to people.”
Catholic social teaching calls nations to regulate their borders in a humane manner, recognizing both security and a human right to migrate in search of food, medical care, and safety, said Christopher Ljundquist, adviser for Latin America in the U.S. Bishops’ Office of International Justice and Peace. The church views immigration as a source of, not an obstacle to, economic development, he said.
Since about 2010, however, the journey through Mexico has become far more deadly as cartels became increasingly savage.
“Migrants en route to the United States are perfect prey to these cartel killers, who force them into smuggling, kidnap them, extort them and, as we have seen, murder them in cold blood without the least scruple,” he said.
Many cartels promote devotion to a “horrible female grim reaper” whose name, “Santisima Muerte,” means “Holy Death,” he said.
Anyone considering migration, he said, needs to understand that “the journey north is dangerous, that there are killers en route who often literally worship death, and that [migrants] are seen by the cartels as human merchandise.”
The August 2019 immigration raids that led to Lopez’s deportation were national news. Of nearly 700 workers detained, two-thirds remained in the U.S. Lopez was deported as a repeat criminal due to his earlier deportation in the 1990s.
He spent nearly a year in detention, surviving COVID-19 while ministering to inmates.
“He never lost his faith, even with those terrible experiences that he had passed through,” Father Medina said. “When he was in the detention center, he called me and asked for books and rosaries in order to make a prayer group. He said that, even in those circumstances, you always cry out to God.”
Many people in Carthage tried to help the detainees. St. Anne’s hosted a legal clinic. Father Medina accompanied Lopez to court.
“We tried to do our best for him, to fight for his freedom, to say that he was a person with character,” he said.
The federal judge called Lopez the kind of man he would like to have as a neighbor, but said that the law tied his hands. “It hurts my heart to see what this great nation is doing to you,” he told Lopez as he ordered the deportation.
In July 2020 Lopez was flown to Guatemala. While volunteering in the parish he had built through his donations, he longed for his family.
“I tried to give him support and prayer and spiritual guidance,” Father Medina said.
When the priest left for vacation in late December, however, Lopez had said nothing about returning. “I think he wanted it to be a surprise,” Father Medina said.
Lopez contracted with a local coyote who was trusted, Father Medina said. The group set out on Jan. 12. Their families last heard from them on Jan. 21.
The next day, “The coyote called his family in Guatemala and said that they had all been killed,” said Father Medina. “The coyote had a son who was with the group, and he was killed as well.”
Mexican investigators found bodies burned beyond recognition in a truck pierced by 113 bullets. Identification came through DNA. Twelve police officers were arrested for killing them, though authorities have identified no motive. Speculation ranges from mistaken identity to a cartel refusing to let others move human merchandise on its turf.
Guatemala declared three days of national mourning. The nation’s president met the flag-draped coffins at the airport, in a ceremony televised live nationwide.
Father Medina went to the funeral for the Comitancillo victims, held on a soccer field. A local priest denounced the injustice that forced villagers to seek work in another country and the deportation of a man who had been a beloved neighbor for two decades.
Migration will not stop, Father Medina said. While he was there, two families asked him to bless their sons for the journey north.
Men from the parish carried the heavy coffin on their shoulders to be buried at his village parish in Chicajalaj, an hour’s walk on a hard, hilly road. They told Father Medina that bearing the coffin on their shoulders was a tradition to honor those who had made great contributions to the community.
“I have witnessed the burial of an apostle, a man who recognized God’s call and who lived his baptismal life with great hope,” Father Medina wrote to his parishioners.
“Now Edgar goes to enjoy the presence of God. May the soul of Edgar and the soul of all his companions by the mercy of God, rest in peace.”

(Reprinted with permission of Angelus News, the newspaper for the Archdiocese of Los Angeles.)

By Joanna Puddister King
JACKSON – Known for his ‘larger than life’ personality, Father Brian Kaskie was a gem of a priest to those around the Diocese of Jackson for almost 30 years.

Father Brian, 57, died Friday, March 26 after an extended bout with medical issues.

Brian David Kaskie was born Feb. 17, 1964 in Forest, Mississippi and attended St. Michael Catholic Church while growing up, assisting as an altar server and active in CYO. In high school, he was a multi-sport athlete, playing on the basketball, football, baseball and tennis teams for the Forest Bearcats.

He was a graduate of Mississippi State University earning his bachelor’s degree in geology. He received his Master’s in Divinity in 1992 and was ordained June 6 that year as the first native-born priest from Scott county.

After his ordination, presided over by Bishop William Houck, Father Brian said, “Many people have different demands and expectations of priests today. A priest has to be able to compromise and meet people where they are.”

That is something Father Brian was able to do well, with is zest for life, God, science, family and community. His obituary read, “He never met a stranger and always engaged in friendly conversation.”
This was so true with the flood of comments to social media after news of his death.

“You were always so funny and kind. We enjoyed your hunting adventures and stories of the pink bathroom at the rectory. I loved being your ‘ace in the hole’ as you called it because I would speak at Mass when you couldn’t find someone else. Heaven has gained a true angel. We will miss you here!” – Amy Hornback of St. Alphonsus parish.

“He made such a difference in the lives of the parishioners of St. Mary in Natchez, especially the youth there and at Cathedral School. To the CYO members in the 90s, he was just one of them!” – Betsy Pitchford of St. Mary Basilica, Natchez.

“You were the best boss. We always had fun. You can have all the Diet Coke, Double Stuffed Oreos and pizza you want. Your angel wing(s) will support you.” – Laura Tarbutton of the Cathedral of St. Peter in Jackson.

“I pray you know how much you were truly loved. I can’t imagine a world without your radiant smile and beautiful homilies … your words touched countless souls over the years, and I feel humbly blessed to have grown up beneath a blanket of Father Brian blessings. – Ashley Hemleben, who first met Father Brian at St. Therese Jackson and grew up with him as chaplain of St. Joseph School.

“I always appreciated his unique sense of humor. When we realized we were birthday twins – at a CYO convention no less – we figured out he was several hours older than me. His response was that he got here in time for three meals that day, while I was only here in time for two.” – Teresa Hayes of St. Therese Jackson.

And the list of memories could fill pages of a novel of the love and humor Father Brian brought to those around the diocese.

In the early 2000s, Father Joe Tonos, who was in seminary with Father Brian in the late 80s/early 90s, wrote a column for Mississippi Catholic and would occasionally have a cartoon in place of the column that would often feature Father Brian.

Some featured Father Brian as a “Kris Kringle,” another series was entitled “Father Brian’s Big Bucket O’ Catholic Trivia,” that went through topics like, “who is in hell?”, “why saints have symbols” and the trivia fact that priests do have interests outside of church.

In the 90s, Father Joe and Father Brian were frequently together at youth retreats and CYO events around the diocese. Father Joe reminisced about the time Father Brian was chaplain at St. Joseph School Madison and he was responsible for doing the senior retreat.

“He gathered the students around a bonfire and celebrated Mass outdoors with them. As part of his homily, he decided that he would take each person in the class and say something about that person. He was winging it. So, he would just look at a person and begin to eulogize this kid and talk about what they meant to him and highlight some stories or qualities. As the stories dragged on into over 20 minutes, … if I remember (correctly), a teacher gently asked him, during the homily, to ‘wrap it up.’ I honest to goodness do not remember how that ended. I don’t even know if I stayed awake for it,” said Father Joe.

“But thinking now, … what a divine gift! To have a chaplain of your school notice you and to be able to say something about you. I know of hundreds of people but can’t really give a ‘homily’ on each member of my congregation. … The shepherd knows his sheep.”

In his 29 years as a priest, Father Brian served parishes in Natchez, Madison and Jackson, where he was rector of the Cathedral. He also served as director of seminarians and vocations for the diocese, as well as chaplain to St. Joseph School in Madison. In 2009, Father Brian made his way to Pike County with assignment as pastor of St. Alphonsus parish in McComb, St. Teresa Chatawa and St. James Magnolia.
Daniel Kaskie, Father Brian’s brother, spoke of the love his brother had for St. Alphonsus at his Funeral Mass at the parish on Tuesday, April 6.

“Brian was one of those gifts that, I think, we all like to hold onto. I found out pretty quickly once he became a priest that he was in very capable hands in the communities he was in. Everyone loved and cared for him and when he found his home here in McComb, man, he loved McComb and McComb loved him right back, and it was a perfect fit I think for his last moments,” said Kaskie.

Father Aaron Williams, administrator of St. Joseph parish in Greenville, gave the homily and spoke of his years and experiences with Father Brian between third and eighth grade and then again entering seminary. He wanted to be a priest from a very young age and Father Brian encouraged him through his journey to the priesthood.

“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love.”

Father Williams began his homily with an excerpt from J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, as he can’t help but think of Father Brian when he thinks about the Harry Potter series.
“For one thing,” he told family gathered for the funeral, “Brian borrowed and never returned more than one of my volumes,” joked Father Williams.

“My parents used to talk about how well read he was, and you could hear it in his homilies. He had this masterful ability to find the good in all sorts of things in the culture – in books, movies and music and to use that to explain the love of God.”

Daniel Kaskie mentioned something similar at the close of Mass, saying “I’m sure he’s thinking ‘Quote the Beatles! Quote the Beatles, Daniel’”

“But there is no song, no lyric, there’s no book that is going to sum up Brian. But I think the shared experience y’all have is one bond that I think binds us all together,” said Kaskie.

That experience surely must be love.