I enjoyed Rabbi Perlin's teaching about how to "talk Torah" and the power of engagement through conversations with others. There are few things as sweet as when my wife and I speak words of Torah around our own Shabbat dinner table with our daughters.

To reinforce Rabbi Perlin's argument, earlier in the parashah we read: "But take utmost care and watch yourselves scrupulously, so that you do not forget the things that you saw with your own eyes and so that they do not fade from your mind as long as you live. And make them known to your children and to your children's children" (Deuteronomy 4:9). Moses is addressing the community long after the Israelites left Egypt and stood at Mount Sinai. Most of the people he was addressing were not even actual witnesses to those great events. Nevertheless, the next generation needed to hear about the former generation's experiences.

I often wonder what builds a strong Jewish identity. Information and knowledge are surely significant ingredients. But the most crucial ingredient is memory. We have to remember what we have seen and pass it on to the next generation. When we lose our memory, our people become vulnerable and our relationship with Torah and God becomes at risk.

In the end, these aren't just rituals, but reenactments--our effort to reclaim our ancestors' experiences for ourselves and our Jewish journeys.

Rabbi Fred Greene is the rabbi at Temple Beth Tikvah of Roswell, Georgia, in the Metro-Atlanta area.

Parenting is not only the greatest blessing of my life, but it is also the most incredible learning experience of my Judaism. When my older son was a little boy he told me that God had a huge pair of scissors, for how else, he explained, could he cut the moon each night and put it in the sky for us to see? When my younger son was in preschool he taught me to appreciate the multicolored sunset when he declared that God must have the big box of crayons, the sixty-four pack with all the different colors (not the small package of eight), because the sky was so pretty, and the colors so abundant and bright. In teaching my children from the youngest age to know and love God, I discovered that they taught me far more in return. Their awe and wonder rekindled my faith and opened my eyes to God's daily miracles. I did not teach my children and give them Judaism to burden them. On the contrary, each law, each commandment, and each observance was my way of protecting them in a world that has so many dangers and temptations. As a parent, I am so grateful for the path of Torah and tradition. Torah has guided them far better than my husband and I ever could have done on our own.

The V'ahavta passage (Deuteronomy 6:5ff.) lays out the blueprint for how we are supposed to teach: talk Torah, God, and commandments "when you sit in your house, when you walk on your way, when you lie down and when you rise up." Torah was never something I expected my kids to learn solely in religious school. Torah and God were part of every dinner table discussion, every values lesson, every act of tzedakah (charitable giving and doing), and every family activity. Jewish discussion invites God and Torah into our homes and our lives. Having them make Jewish choices and live a Jewish life when they left our nest was our goal as parents; their regular observance of kashrut, Shabbat dinner and weekly worship, Torah study, and community service as adults has insured Jewish continuity for the next generation.

If you asked me to tell you the most important words of the entire Torah, they would be these four words from Deuteronomy 6:7 "V'shinantam l'vaneycha v'dibarta bam," which the Jewish Publication Society (JPS) translation shows as, "Impress them upon your children. Recite them . . ." This translation, used and explained in our Torah commentary, as well as Mishkan T'filah, chooses the w