It might seem that filling your own stomach with food is about as self-oriented an act as one could perform. On the other hand few things could be more boring than watching someone else eat. It would seem to follow, then, that eating would be a private affair. But ironically eating is an inherently social activity that invites communication.

When eating, people do not typically concentrate much attention on their food (unless perhaps that food contains inordinate levels of sugar). We do not obsess with the process of satiating our hunger (unless perhaps a meal or more has been skipped). We are bent toward thinking less about the food in our mouths and a more about the persons sharing the meal with us.

This is not learned behavior. We do not view eating as a relational activity only after years of habituation mute its novelty and render it second nature (like driving a car). Just watch a table full of children eat together sometime. The food itself is the last thing on those young minds, which is one reason so much of it ends up in places other than the mouth.

Almost the only time children discuss their food together is when something "illegal" is being done with it. And in such events, communication is the inevitable outcome if not the primary goal anyway. "Watch this guys, I can fit four peas up my nose!" "Look what happens when I smash this grape under my glass." "Hey, that's my cookie, give it back." The conversation may range back and forth across a thousand topics but will rarely touch on the food itself.

It is no different for the more mature. Seldom is the food itself ever referenced at a meal unless to communicate to others the joy or displeasure one finds in it. And think about it: it makes no sense at all to meet for conversation with someone while you both stuff things into your respective mouths. Yet restaurants seem to be one of America's favorite places for brokering deals, hammering out plans, and conversing with friends. In fact wherever social conversation is encouraged there you will inevitably find people stuffing their faces with food: at weddings, funerals, parties, conferences, outings, and celebrations of all sorts.

Eating as a stimulant for communication is even displayed when we eat alone. Do you view eating alone as your coveted opportunity to think hard about the food sliding into your happy stomach? I hope not. No, you probably spread out a newspaper or magazine on the table in front of you, read a book, plop yourself in front of the television, or play a C.D. or something - surrogate conversations all! Observe sometime how many single diners in a restaurant come armed with reading material - or leave within ten minutes.

Dogs do not share their food (to state it mildly). They do not care to socialize when they eat (unless to beg). And they give near full attention to their food while eating. But observation confirms that eating is a relational event for Adam's race. Occupying our mouths with food seems to stimulate our ears. And listening aids communication. And communication builds relationships.

It is for this reason that the decline of the family dinner table constitutes a modern tragedy. Prior to the mid-twentieth century American families tended to eat together with regularity - that is to say, they talked together with regularity. But with the frenetic pace of life imposed upon us by modernization, the family dinner table has fallen on hard times.

Transitioning from a predominately agrarian culture (when even many urbanites had been habituated by farm life), work schedules began to lose their rhythm with the introduction of second and third shift jobs. Moms left home to work. Dramatic transportation improvements reduced distances and increased opportunities. And the educational and entertainment industry grew to gargantuan proportions - beckoning Americans to either amuse themselves or improve themselves every night of the week. By the mid-1950's enterprising entrepreneurs were responding to the time pressures of harried families by providing "fast food" (both frozen and hot off the grill).

About half a century later eating on the fly has become a way of life for most Americans. Family mealtime has been largely sacrificed on the altar of modernity's smorgasbord of opportunities - music, dance and karate lessons; team sports, school events, shopping malls and restaurants, to say nothing of endless entertainment options. This cacophony of opportunities exploits modern travel capacities and is scheduled across the calendar in such a way as to assure that families eat in shifts or on the run with regularity. Family communication on this fast-paced treadmill of modernity is often reduced to short discussions on how to make schedules jive.

Modernity is not evil but it is demanding. If left unchecked it has the capacity to pull a family apart at the seams. One way I believe we should push back at this force is by maintaining and nurturing the family dinner table. I'm not arguing that this table is sacrosanct. I am suggesting that families purposefully factor into their weekly routines specific times when they will eat together as a family and encourage intentional conversation.

This will necessitate the prioritization of family meals over at least some developmental activities and entertainment pleasures. This will also require that parents take an active role in nurturing table talk by posing thoughtful questions and encouraging respectful listening.

That may sound idealistic to some, but we must try. In that spirit, let me share with you a few table talk exercises that I have found beneficial even while fighting the chaos that seems to prevail at a table where young children are learning to eat (theoretically!).

Exercise One. Give each family member a turn to summarize his or her day and then to share a particularly interesting experience. The rule is that everyone else must listen respectfully to the one who "has the floor" and not interrupt unless to ask a clarifying question. This practice encourages the less communicative family member who might not naturally fight for a hearing or care to speak. It also reinforces the skill of patient listening and commends an atmosphere of respect for others, both of which are essential to healthy communication.

Exercise Two. Ask each family member to answer in turn the following question: "What did you do to help someone else today?" Or, "Did you ask any good questions today and what did you learn?" Posed at mealtimes with any consistency, such inquiries have a way of sticking with a child and affecting behavior. In fact, at this stage of our adventure, my children will occasionally petition me to ask these questions because they have an experience they are excited to share. In such instances table talk has served not only as a means of communication but as a stimulant for ethical behavior.

Exercise Three. One of my favorite exercises is to discuss the morning sermon after church on Sundays. It is amazing what even young children understand and what spiritual insights they discover when encouraged to form them. Start by quizzing the children on the gist of the message with mom and dad filling in the blanks. Having established the key moral imperatives of the sermon, discuss their application to daily life. This can be done effectively by posing hypothetical situations in which those imperatives can be applied. Coupled with follow up questions through the week, such table talk serves to integrate church, home, school, work, and play.

Exercise Four. It is my conviction that an emphasis on table talk which excludes God from the conversation is idolatrous. Therefore no exercise can substitute for purposefully welcoming God into the discussion by reading his Word (the Bible) at the family dinner table. God's Word certainly can be (and should be) read elsewhere and at other times. But I believe that following a meal is an ideal time for when God's Word is read (followed perhaps by responsive prayer and singing) after a season of table talk, God's communicative, relational nature is quietly affirmed. And that is beneficial: for when the day arrives that my children no longer eat at my table, I want them to have learned to talk as intimately with God as they ever did with mom and dad.

I will be the first to admit that I do not always "succeed" with these exercises. But one thing I know for sure, we are talking together as a family, routinely. And I have a deep sense this is as good as it is rare these days. I welcome many of the opportunities modernity offers, but I refuse to let those opportunities kill table talk in my home. There is simply too much at stake to let that happen.

Dan Miller, based on "Spiritual Reflections" article for the Savage Pacer, August 10, 2003