My Dad has always been a larger-than-life type of guy and for most of my childhood appeared to be the dominant force in our family, even though Mom often manipulated the outcome from behind the curtains like the Wizard of Oz. When he came home from work tired and grumpy, my brother and I knew better than to disturb him until dinner.

Dad would come to the table and sit in "his" chair — a place none of us would dream of sitting in — and talk about his day. Between mouthfuls of chicken and corn, I learned about grown-up things like the stresses of working in a family business. Without a doubt, dinner was my favorite time of day.

I didn't know then that not sitting in my father's chair was particularly Jewish, but I have since learned that refraining from sitting in a parent's place is one of the ways to comply with the mitzva of kibud av va'em, honoring our parents.

The two texts in the Torah that tell us the obligations of children are the Fifth Commandment, "Honor your father and mother," and in Leviticus 19:3: "Revere your mother and father." Honor and reverence are two concepts of duty, requiring different sensitivities and commitments on our part as children.

To honor is deemed a positive mitzva, requiring us to provide food, clothing, shelter, and, in general, the physical needs of a parent in much the same way they did for us when we were young. To revere is viewed as a negative commandment, requiring us to refrain from doing certain things — like sitting in our parent's chair.

These obligations extend to all children, whether biological, adopted or step-, but there are certain exceptions to the rule. If a parent requires a child to violate a commandment, forces a marriage partner, causes strife between a child and his or her spouse, or is evil or abusive, then that child is released from the commandment to honor and revere the offending parent.

It is fascinating that nowhere in the Torah are we required to love our parents, only to honor and revere them. Why not command love for our parents when we are commanded to love, for example, our neighbors and strangers? One interpretation is that it isn't necessary to state that we should love our parents because it is such an obvious and natural response. Another interpretation suggests that for some people, loving our parents may be an impossible request. The obligations of the Torah are designed for us to be able to fulfill. Commanding us to love our parents is something we may not be able to do because it is based on how we feel. Honoring our parents is possible, however, regardless of our feelings.

I would like to offer an additional way to honor our parents, one that requires nothing but our time, interest, and willingness to listen: Ask them about their lives. When we ask them to share their stories, we do much to honor them. Expressing who they are and what they value most not only helps them make sense of their lives, but proves that they matter and that their lives have lasting meaning. Listening to our parent gives us an opportunity to slow ourselves down and create sacred time to honor them by showing them that we care. It may be difficult or awkward at first but you can start with some general questions that will open the door to deeper conversation. Questions like: "What have been the most important things in your life?" "What people influenced you the most?" "What are your hopes for your children and grandchildren?"

In our fast-paced, future-oriented society, where things become obsolete before we have even taken them out of the box, the world needs the wisdom of our parents, whose love, values, and stories can inspire us to live more meaningful lives as we face an uncertain future.