Knights at the Dinner Table

Although I’m not the most social person, there is one conversation that I am fond of: talking at the dinner table with family. As you’ve seen in previous posts, I value family quite a bit. I think it’s important to spend what little time you might have with them. There are only so many hours in a day, after all.

Personally, I think that the dinner table is underappreciated. People don’t treat it with the reverence it respects. They may see it as a product of a bygone era, a contemporary fad of Ward Cleaver than anything respectable people do nowadays. If they think about it at all. I may be overexaggerating somewhat (after all, most people would agree with me that having a phone at the dinner table is inappropriate), but all too often, I see lots of families crowded around the dinner table, each one with their phones out, looking at their text messages. They sit in silence, their eyes glued to their screens, their minds far away from their bodies.

Sometimes, they play video games, look down at their phones, or watch television at it. Of course, it’s not like I’m innocent of doing these things too. My parents know very well how often I brought my phone to the table, as I was busy reading some story or news article on the Internet. But when it comes to family dinnertime, my parents operated under the assumption that it was good to put these things away for the sake of family. There would always be a stern reprimand for anyone that refused to do this.

And they were right. As this study shows, having electronics at the dinner table isn’t good for ones’ personal health and happiness. The research shows that “extended phone use during meal times” leads to “a noticeable decrease in the level of enjoyment experienced by diners” and causes people to “feel more distracted and less socially engaged.” The article goes on to point out that this could strain even the closest interpersonal relationships.

But why? Why should it matter that we’re all not mentally present? Here, I’d like to provide some insights.

We all recognize that certain gatherings can exude an atmosphere of sorts. Funerals and weddings alike exude a solemn atmosphere that differs from that of birthday parties. The feeling of a church is different from the feeling of a home which is different from the feeling of an office building. This atmosphere is irreducible to beliefs of any one individual or group of individuals. Each of these gatherings has a “tone” of sorts.

Now, breaking the “tone” of these places is usually considered a bad thing. The one who clowns around at a funeral or wedding is looked down upon as being disrespectful. The one who ruins the fun of a party is disparaged as a “party pooper.” There are certain unwritten rules in these places, and if you break them, you will be ostracized.

Now, one can apply this to the dinner table. Just as the purpose of a funeral is to mourn the dead, the purpose of a dinner table is to be a gathering place for the family. And this comes with a certain, family-oriented atmosphere that is just there even if no one individual is consciously aware of it. However, whenever someone breaks the atmosphere, everyone around experiences a sense of wrongness, as if someone has violated a taboo. Since this atmosphere isn’t as obvious at a family dinner than it is at a funeral, the source of the perversity is unclear. People don’t recognize the importance of family dinners on a conscious level, even when we recognize it unconsciously.

But for as long as I can remember, I’ve been eating with my family over dinner without distracting things like phones. My parents would tell my brother and I to put away our phones whenever we ate. In return, I’d also tell my mom to pause the television, at least temporarily, so that we could all eat in peace. The air instead would be filled with the sounds of forks hitting food and chattering.

The smell of the food would be the only thing foreshadowing what was to come. My mother would usually be the one to make something very nice, like baked potatoes, pork chops, or English muffin mini-pizzas. She’s an excellent cook, though because of her diets, she hardly ever eats what she makes for the rest of the family.

Before each meal, we’d said our prayers to give God thanks for the food. The Lord would consecrate our meal, our gathering, through our grateful prayer. We’d also pray for those family and friends who truly needed it.

After that, we conversed. My brother and I shared stories about what we did school: the mischief we got up to with our friends, the assignments our teachers handed out, etc. Our dad, meanwhile, shared what work was like. He’d talk about all the clients he was helping and the conversations he’d have at the office. And mom talked about the things she did during her time, whether it be working as an administrator at my dad’s company, meeting with teachers and other parents at school, or just working around the house. Dinnertime brought us together as a family, reminding us of what was important.

There is something profoundly wholesome and fulfilling about dinnertime with family. Besides the food, of course. A family is a complete society filled with members bound by love, and there is no other time when this spirit of giving is embodied than around the dinner table. Dinnertime is family time, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Bon appetit!