Reckoning with change -- when and how it occurs, why it occurs, and what its aftershocks or consequences might be -- is the historian's lot. Sometimes, with the benefit of both hindsight and extensive documentation, everything becomes clear, at least in retrospect; most of the time, it's more like reading tea leaves. The outbreak of war, the eruption of natural disasters, or the onset of debilitating illness can be neatly aligned along a fault line of "before" and "after." Not so ritual change -- the process by which new religious practices come into being and existing ones are overhauled or retired. Its trajectory is uneven and bumpy, marked by fits and starts and a dim awareness that something big is in the offing.