He carried the naked doll to a large barrel of water and began to bathe it, before handing it to his assistants, who quickly redressed it in simpler clothes. Afterwards, Martelino used the bathwater to bless his followers.

•   •   •

I enjoyed your service, Father,” Klay said, and accepted a mango slice from a dish an altar boy held out to him. The priest sat behind a heavy Spanish desk across from Klay, in his modest office at the back of the church. Outside, the church’s recessional bells chimed. Sunlight filtered into the priest’s office through a capiz-shell screen.

Martelino leaned forward and plucked a date from the dish. “You were easy to recognize,” he replied, chewing his date. “Few kneel before God anymore.” He glanced at the altar boy, whose dark eyes dropped to the floor and stayed there.

“That’s Sister Marie,” Klay said. “No one eats that flesh without first adoring it. It was on the tongue or off to hell.” He rubbed his knuckles. “She was a tough one.”

Martelino sighed. “Paul the Sixth.” He spread his hands. “So, what can I do for you, Tomas. Is it Tomas?”

“Tomas, yes,” Klay said. “Thomas O’Shea. O’Shea Funeral Home Corporation.” Klay placed a business card on Martelino’s desk.

“Ah, a mortician. So, you understand the importance of rituals.”

“Without them we are out of business.”

“Which did you enjoy most?” Martelino asked, chewing.

“The Hubo—”

“No, of course. What else have you seen?”

“Well,” Klay said. “The fluvial procession was something. It was overwhelming for me, as an American Catholic.”

Klay was tired. He had decided to approach the priest during the country’s Santo Niño festival, when millions of Catholics flock to Cebu. Klay had risen at three a.m. to walk, carrying a small white candle with tens of thousands of believers, talking quietly with them about faith. It was hard not to be moved by the conviction of the people he encountered, especially the many poor, sick, and frail. Most of these ceremonies involved a passing of the hat, taking whatever these faithful could spare. Theater was everywhere. At its most extreme, he watched a Santo Niño icon declared the navy’s supreme captain general and granted command of a navy patrol ship, which it then captained across Mactan Channel, escorted by four patrol ships, two coast guard cutters, a pair of helicopters dropping flowers, and a maritime parade of devotees in hundreds of small boats.

“Oh, I know you Americans find our traditions absurd.”

“Oh no, Father.”