my preconceived notions of sanctity, and allow myself to admit a different way, before I could see worship in the pure joy of abandon.

I’ve come to experience matsuri as worshipful events simply by recognizing their inside-out nature. My own Catholic upbringing taught me that communion with God was best carried out as an inner monologue; public exhortations/​expostulations were best left to the “holy rollers” in their tents; and thankfulness for God’s benevolence – no matter through what agency – was to be expressed with sincerity and gravitas, amen. Matsuri break from all of this, by turning everything inside out: inner monologue is replaced by joyful outbursts; shouts come not from the pulpit, but from the throng; and gratitude for bounty is not a tone-deaf chant but a feast and a celebration. The participants strip to the edge of impropriety, exposing their bodies as well as their souls, revealing their inner selves, leaving no room for the sanctimonious to hide.