This Bold Essay Collection Invites Readers to Reimagine What It Means to Believe, Belong, and Be Seen
What happens when the stories we’ve inherited no longer make sense? When the rituals we once found comforting start to feel confining? For anyone who has wrestled with questions of faith, identity, or belonging, Bill Hulseman’s debut collection, six to carry the casket and one to say the mass, offers something rare: a deeply personal, radically honest, and profoundly hopeful reimagining of spiritual life.
Released on July 8, 2025, six to carry the casket and one to say the mass is not your typical religious memoir. It’s a work of vulnerability and vision, shaped by Hulseman’s experience as a gay man raised in a devout Catholic family and forged in the tension between reverence and resistance. Through a series of elegant, self-interrogating essays, Hulseman explores how we carry the weight of identity, community, grief, and transformation—and how, in time, we learn to carry it differently.
Hulseman’s reflections are not just for those who were raised Catholic or identify as LGBTQ+. They are for anyone who’s ever stood at the crossroads of tradition and truth, wondering if it’s possible to honor the past while stepping fully into the future. Spoiler alert: it is. And Hulseman shows us how—with a voice that is pastoral, poetic, and unafraid.
From the very first essay, Hulseman draws readers into the emotional landscape of growing up as “the ornament” in a large, religious household where silence often spoke louder than support. Yet instead of painting his upbringing in black-and-white terms, he brings nuance. There is love in his storytelling—love for his family, his students, his mentors, and even the Church that asked him to hide. That complexity is what makes the book so compelling: it’s not about deconstructing belief to destroy it; it’s about deconstructing belief to reclaim it.
The title itself—six to carry the casket and one to say the mass—is rich with imagery and metaphor. It references Catholic funeral traditions, yes, but also hints at the communal nature of life, death, and storytelling. In Hulseman’s view, we are all both mourners and ministers, carrying and commemorating what came before us. The question becomes: what do we want to carry forward?
The essays move fluidly through themes of faith, queerness, education, grief, and pop culture. There are moments of levity—like Hulseman’s ode to Madonna’s “Ray of Light” as a queer spiritual anthem—and moments of deep introspection, such as his accounts of teaching religion in schools while quietly holding his truth. Each chapter offers an invitation, not an instruction. Readers are never told what to believe, but rather encouraged to ask better, braver questions.
One of the most striking qualities of this collection is its tenderness. Hulseman writes like someone who has been broken open by life and has chosen to meet that brokenness with compassion rather than cynicism. His prose doesn’t shy away from anger or grief, but it always circles back to connection—between people, ideas, and the sacred.
He makes a strong case that spirituality doesn’t require conformity. It requires attention. Attention to what stirs your soul, what holds your pain, and what brings you back to life. For Hulseman, that might be a liturgical prayer, a classroom conversation, or a memory wrapped in grief. For others, it might be something else entirely. The point is not to replicate his experience but to honor your own.
In the book’s final section, focused on queer identity, Hulseman reframes Pride as a spiritual act—not just a celebration, but a form of liturgy. “We are not stuck with the identity we inherit,” he writes. “The challenge—and the gift—is deciding what to keep and what to let go.” It’s a line that captures the spirit of the entire collection.
Ultimately, six to carry the casket and one to say the mass is not about loss—it’s about becoming. About what happens when we allow ourselves to be fully seen, fully heard, and fully human. For those navigating transitions of faith, identity, or belonging, this book doesn’t promise easy answers. It offers something better: accompaniment.
You can purchase six to carry the casket and one to say the mass in hardcover from Amazon, Allstora, Pathway, Barnes & Noble, or your favorite indie bookstore.
To learn more about Bill Hulseman, his writing, upcoming events, and weekly meditations, visit www.billhulseman.com.
