In Praise of Tinkering

Tinker is a good word.  As a kid I used to tinker a lot.  I’d tinker with my Lincoln Logs and my Erector Set;  I’d build something or other and if it didn’t turn out right I’d change the design or start over, no biggie.  The purpose of tinkering was not to be “The best there ever was.”, as baseball player Roy Hobbs wanted to be known in The Natural.  When we kids would find a vacant field to play a little ball during those nice summer days, we really were tinkering;  muffing a fairly easy fly ball, striking out, throwing wide of third base and allowing a run to score, no biggie.  Sure, there were times not to tinker, like on a math test, or in a chemistry lab.  But everybody seemed to know the difference

Even when the situation called for doing something important for others, there were times when tinkering was the best approach.  At boy scout camp in the Sierras, for instance, tinkering was often the way things worked – the way we learned stuff.  If the beans cooked by a couple of the boys didn’t turn out so well, we ate more of the potatoes and peas that meal, and those kids did it differently next week when they were the cooks again.  If the raft that my Rattlesnake Patrol put together didn’t hold up as well as the raft made by the guys in the Cobra Patrol, then we tried to find out what they did, so we could do it differently next time.  If we were on a hike and the pack became too heavy for one kid, then other kids took turns helping carry his pack, no biggie. 

Yes at scout camp we had The Boy Scout Manual that guided us in a general sort of way.  But we scouts differed from each other in age, interests, character, family stability and responsibilities, so there was never one right answer to anything.  We had to notice and be open to our new experiences as well as that of others.  We had to be comfortable in being wrong some of the time.  In a learning culture like scout camp, tinkering was everyplace; the important thing was to share what worked and what didn’t.  Working with each other and trying to think creatively seemed to be the way things came out OK over time.

Now that I am grown up and then some, I no longer see tinkering held in such high regard; certainly not in athletic play.    Even computer and SmartPhone games are really tests to see how quickly we players can get to the “right place” that some 20-something programmer living in San Francisco decided was the “right place” for everybody.   Most of our digital games have become teachers of “absolutes” – more like a math class than a scout camp. 

What does all of this have to do with older adults and the church?   I suggest a whole lot.   To the extent that we think that the right answer for church is, say 300 (If we had 300 members we would be doing just great.), or 84 (If I still show up at church when I am 84 I will have had a wonderful life.), or 200 for 20,000 (If every member gave an extra $200, then we could reach our goal of $20,000 for a new bell tower.), then our churches too have become more like math classes than my scout camp.

But aren’t our churches really to help us learn from each other how to find faith, love and to treat our neighbors as ourselves?  Yes, we can learn the general principles from The Bible, but in practice, our diversity of age, interests, character, income, and responsibilities suggests that it takes working with others and creativity to make it all work.  We older adult church members need to notice and be open to our new experiences and be comfortable in being wrong some of the time.   We need to encourage multiple creative approaches and the sharing of what we find works – or doesn’t work.  Listening with respect to each other and trying to think creatively about the issues before us will be the way things come out OK over time.

This, it seems to me, argues for a culture of tinkering in our churches.

Bruce