It's just after two o'clock, the afternoon before the first Seder. I'm in the grocery store with at least one representative from every Jewish family in the suburban town where I am spending the first days of Passover. No matter how many canisters of matzah farfel have been purchased, it's somehow never enough. We're also buying onions and carrots--our stores were sufficient for soup and vegetable kugel, just not trimmings for the brisket.

I'm standing in line with my host and it's easy to see that the family in front of us is on a similar mission. Their take includes foil pans and matzah meal. As the cashier rings up these items, the daughter--my guess is that she is about 10--speaks into her mother's cell phone, "Grandma, did you remember the orange on the Seder plate?" As this conversation continues, we notice the last item to be scanned, a package of Entenmann's Little Bites fudge brownies.

Now, it's possible that the family had to go over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house for Seder, and perhaps they purchased the brownies to sustain themselves along the interstate. Perhaps the dietary laws of the holiday hold no interest; their celebration consisting of a ritual meal spent with family --there is much to be said about the spiritual properties of grandma's gefilte fish. Maybe they're bringing the treat to the neighbor child who will be taking care of the dog while they are away. Perhaps they never learned the intricacies of keeping kosher for Passover.

Whatever the reason, the contents of this particular grocery basket, coupled with the overheard cell-phone conversation were indicative of the dilemma of modern Jewish life. We are constantly looking for the relevant angle. Sometimes, when tradition is staring us in the face, we seem to push it aside to make room for something we think will have more meaning. It's not always easy to find the right balance.

Of course, there is a great deal of innovation inside Reform Judaism. The steps taken by our movement have allowed me to become a rabbi and have encouraged the publication of so much of the music we enjoy in our worship services.

Innovation can be good. In the case of what I witnessed in the grocery store, I'm pleased that a small child is taking interest in the Seder beyond the afikoman prize and how many pages are left until dinner. I'm similarly pleased that she has internalized something taught her in religious school or in previous years around the Seder table about the inclusion of any marginalized group into the mainstream of Jewish life. (Though the placement of an orange on the Seder plate has come to be known widely as a symbol of the inclusion of women, Susannah Heschel, the tradition's instigator, says it started as a way to represent the historic marginalization of gays and lesbians in Jewish life.)

Though I applaud any effort that successfully brings Jews to a meaningful Jewish experience, I'm perplexed to find that such inspiration often comes from outside of our tradition. The Passover story is a perfect example. It's full of drama and metaphor. Its telling is usually interactive, involving everyone around the table. Its message is universal. Is there anyone, even among children, who hasn't struggled to attain freedom in one way or another? And yet, we often bypass both the simplicity and grandeur of the story and its messages, in search of meaning. Meaning that is staring up at us from the page.

I know that many of the creative haggadot were written as engagement tools to encourage people who were interested in civil rights, or Darfur or even chocolate, to participate in Jewish cultural and religious life. I'm in favor of activities that get Jews involved in Judaism.

As we approach the holiday of Shavuot, the holiday that commemorates the giving of the Torah, I invite you to go back to the sources. Before you create modern Midrash, turn to classical Midrash, and before participating in "Torah Yoga," turn to the Torah. You needn't look elsewhere for inspiration. As it says in Pirke Avot, the Ethics of the Fathers, "Turn it over and over again, for everything is in it."