"And you shall teach them to your sons and speak of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk on the way, and when you lie down and when you rise up.” (Devarim 6:7)

The Orchos Chaim L’haRosh uses this pasuk to convey the importance of setting specific times for learning Torah, such as before eating and sleeping.

On the words “when you sit in your house,” he explains that this isn’t only referring to times when you’re actually sitting in your physical house. Rather, it can be compared to the halachos of ner Chanukah: Just as we light the candles when all the people of the household are gathered together, so too, we need to speak about Torah when all the people of the household are gathered together. (Rav Daniel Movshovitz)

“Strive to make time for each other. Before you know it, the pace of your life will pick up and you’ll end up like two strangers passing each other as you take out the garbage.”

I sat like so many other kallahs, starry-eyed and dreamy, confident that my teacher’s words would never apply to me and my chassan. I was floating in the clouds, way above such earthly matters of passing time.

Fast-forward a couple of decades.

Every week flies by with increasing speed. Morning, noon, and night blur in a cacophony of clanging chords, short techie bites that barely resemble communication.

“What’s this crazy credit card charge?”

“That’s for Avi’s braces.”

“We’re going to need a new mortgage just to pay for his teeth.”

Days fade into nights, weeks into months.

Friday night my husband passes out the challah and asks, “How was everyone’s week?”

As the kids vie to announce their news, we both lean back and sigh contentedly in this oasis of peace. Yet we’re all too aware that this tranquil hiatus will disappear the moment the Havdalah candle’s out. Then it’s back to life on the fast track.

We find that the gedolei Torah always used mealtimes as an opportunity to speak about bitachon and emunah. Mealtimes can easily digress into simple talk of Olam Hazeh and empty words. Yet these opportune moments could be used to educate.

I heard from Rav Y. Halevy that he’d tell stories from the Tze’enah U’re’enah at his table. Often simple words can penetrate the heart in places where deep words are dismissed. One should always have something light yet meaningful prepared to discuss at times when his family is available.

One Motzaei Shabbos, my husband decided enough was enough. He put out the Havdalah candle and made his announcement. “We need to touch base more as a family. We’re instituting the age-old tradition of family suppertime. Starting tomorrow.”

“I have a chavrusa at 4:30!”

“I have swimming at seven!”

“I’m meeting my friend!”

“From now on, supper’s at six. Everyone can adjust their schedules accordingly.”

At first I thought we’d never pull it off in our busy household. But my husband was determined, so family suppertime was carved into our schedules.

He left his study. I turned off the phone. The kids ended playdates and were home by six. And lo and behold, night after night, we sat around the table and ate supper together.

“So how was your day?”

My husband passed the meatballs, the kids eagerly shared their tidbits, then he shared a glimpse of what he was learning. It usually took less than half an hour, but it was enough to cement us together each day.

Chazal tell us, “How great is swallowing, for through it people can draw close.” (Sanhedrin 103b) Mealtime holds tremendous potential for love and growth. Just like the gedolim maximize this family time, so too we need to use this time around the table to reach out and educate the members of our household.

These days the crowd around our table is smaller: Life moves on, kids move out. But there’s still something magical as we pass the meatballs and share the moment.

“I know how to make an alef! Wanna see?” Yitzi carefully arranges his spaghetti.

“Big deal, I can write my whole name!” Binyamin passes his plate to demonstrate.

The tone may have changed to suit this new batch of dinner companions, but the concept’s the same. The family that eats together, sticks together. Through thick and thin. Meatballs and spaghetti.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 602)