Last Saturday, while Martha was at the Regional Market buying fresh vegetables, fruits, and flowers, she stopped at a booth of antiques, where she spotted a 1950’s vintage Smiths mantle clock in a handsome teak cabinet. As she was examining it, the seller approached her and said, “It only works for two or three minutes and then it stops. But it looks nice.” The tag on the clock read $10. “Well, since it looks nice but doesn’t really work,” Martha replied, “how about $5?” “Sure,” he said without much hesitation.
Martha happily reported this conversation to me as she handed me the clock at home. “So what if it doesn’t work?” she said. “It’ll look nice on the mantle.” “Yes, it will,” I said. I set it above the fireplace, admired it for a moment, and then turned my attention to other things.
The next evening, I took another look at the attractive but lifeless clock. My curiosity got the better of me. I took it off the mantle and brought it into the dining room, where I set it on the table, turned it around and opened the back. I removed the key and the detached lead pendulum bob. I opened the glass cover on the clock’s face and inserted the key in both holes. It was already wound tight, so I turned it back around, carefully swung the chime coil outward, and hung the bob from the pendulum rod. I set the pendulum in motion and it began ticking.
To my surprise, it was still ticking five minutes later, then ten, then fifteen. Then it stopped. I tipped the pendulum again. This time, it only kept going for about five
“What’s that?” Martha called out from another room. “It’s that clock you bought,” I said. “It seems to be working – sort of.” I moved the minute hand again, and when it passed “9,” another click and movement lifted and released the hammer seven times. The time on the clock was 9:45. “Hmm,” I muttered.
I was puzzled, but by that time, I was also hooked. I opened my laptop and went searching for information about old mantle clocks. From a site selling antique clocks, I learned that Smiths mantle clocks like this one chime on the half hour and hour. So I got the pendulum swinging again, then moved the minute hand close enough to “3” to trigger the chiming motion. When the chime went off, I removed the screw holding the hands in place, detached the minute hand, and then re-attached it over the “6.” Then, I moved it up to the “12,” counted the number of chimes, and moved the hour hand to match them.
So the chime was fixed, but the clock still wouldn’t run for more than a few minutes. Following a suggestion I found on a clock repair website, I placed the clock on the mantle and listened carefully to the “tick-tock.” It wasn’t perfectly balanced, so I slowly lifted the right side of the clock, then the left side, until the ticking sounded even. I used corrugated cardboard to shim the bottom of the clock. I set the time, lifted one side of the clock and let it drop. It started running. After two hours of even tick-tocks, I felt flush with excitement.
But my job was still unfinished. The next morning, I saw that the clock was running fast – gaining about three minutes per hour. So when I returned home that evening, I consulted my on-line sources again and learned that there was probably an exposed nut in the middle of the pendulum bob that I could turn to adjust how low it hung on the rod. Of course, I was afraid to move the clock for fear it would stop running again, so I stood on a step-stool in order to open and see into the back of the clock without moving it. With a flashlight, I examined the swinging bob and saw – sure enough – a gold nut. So I stopped the pendulum and detached the bob. On close examination, I could see the letters “S” and “F” in relief on the upper part of the bob with arrows beneath them to indicate which way to turn the nut to make the pendulum swing slower or faster. This began a three-day trial and error process. Early in the morning and before going to bed I compared the time on the clock to the time on my cell phone, and adjusted the bob accordingly. By Wednesday, it was accurate to within just a few seconds. It’s been running continuously for six days now, still keeping good time. I’m ecstatic.
Martha is amused by all of this. She just paid five dollars for a curio to put on the mantle. “I had no idea this would become an obsession for you,” she said to me. All I could say was, “I love this clock!”
“Love” is a strong word, but I am truly fascinated with it. Here is a finely crafted piece of machinery with no battery and no plug. Like most clocks up until the mid-1900’s, it relies purely on the kinetic energy supplied by someone winding it up once a week. It is an intricate form of mechanics for which our fuel-burning culture has lost appreciation. I’m also intrigued by how its correct functioning requires a lot of care that in turn leads to enjoyment. Our digital culture doesn’t often give us this opportunity. Finally, I simply marvel at how well it works, even after nearly 60 years*. The sound of the ticking and the chimes lend character to the room it occupies, besides keeping us abreast of the time.
As I have gotten acquainted with the mantle clock, I have been thinking about those 17th- and 18th-century Enlightenment philosophers who liked to refer to God as the Great Clockmaker. They were enamored with the order of nature, which they took as evidence of an intelligent creator. They compared nature to a clock in the middle of an open field or a desert. If you found the clock, you would know that it did not simply emerge from its surroundings. It had to have been created by a clockmaker.
These philosophers, however, made a mistake with this analogy. They posited that since God would not invent anything imperfect, that which God made needs no maintenance, like a clock that never has to be wound or cleaned. So, they said, God made the world with its natural laws, set it in motion (wound it up?) then got out of the way to let it run on its own. Hence, God is not personally involved in the world. We cannot expect God to intervene in response to our petitions, since God will not violate the “mechanics” of the world he has created.
One of those philosophers, Robert Boyle, understood the inadequacy of this analogy. He said, “There is incomparably more art expressed in the structure of a dog’s hind leg than in that of the famous clock at Strasbourg” (the great Cathedral clock that not only told time but also featured automated figures dramatizing various Christian themes). Boyle’s point, of course, was that God’s creation is far more impressive than anything we could invent, so to compare God’s creation to a clock is a great injustice. As fascinating as the most famous clock may be, it is nothing compared to the intricacy of God’s handiwork.
I’ll take Boyle’s point a step further. “Creation” is not a machine. It is an organic whole. So while the laws of nature are reliable, much of the created order requires constant attention. The “animated” (literally “spirit-filled”) elements of creation are not machines running automatically with mechanical parts. We are made of bodies, minds, and spirits that work together as one whole. As such, we need and – whether we realize it or not – desire a relationship with our Creator.
So my fascination with this mantle clock is like one of those “how-much-more” parables Jesus liked to tell. That is, if this mechanical piece brings so much interest and pleasure, runs so well, and is so thoughtfully conceived, how much more interesting, enjoyable and thoughtfully made are God’s creatures, from the tiniest ant to the most intelligent human being? As Psalm 139:14 confesses, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.”
©2014 by J. Mark Lawson
*The particular chiming mechanism in this clock first appeared in 1954. I found a picture on-line of the exact same clock but with a floating balance instead of a pendulum. Smiths (a British company) started using a German-made Hettich floating balance in 1956, then patented their own in 1960. On the inside of the door of the cabinet is a label that reads, “Incorporating, temporarily, certain escapement parts of foreign manufacture.” Smiths used this label when it was employing Hettich parts. On this basis, it seems certain that the clock was made between 1956 and 1959.
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