Explainer
Comment
Economics
Hinduism
Monastic life
6 min read

The Merc, the monks, and the pursuit of excellence

Exploring the roots of the work ethic.

Rahil is a former Hindu monk, and author of Found By Love. He is a Tutor and Speaker at the Oxford Centre for Christian Apologetics.

A large sculpture of the Mercedes Benz three-point star stands in front of a large, low glass fronted showroom.
Mercedes Benz visitor centre, Sindelfingen.

I visited the Mercedes Benz factory in Sindelfingen, Germany, back in 1999.  It’s an event that etched a profound impression on my mind. I would even go as far as to say one of the most overpowering “Godly moments” of my life. Hold on! Before you shun me as a “materialist” or silently mutter “of course you love a Mercedes…you’re Indian!” Let me crawl out of your assumptions and rescue myself with an explanation. 

Entering the grounds of the Benz factory that cold October afternoon, my guide said that the car park alone was eight square miles of brand-new Benz’. “A robot takes each car from the factory to the car park” I was proudly told. “Germans usually don’t like any mileage on their new cars before they come to collect them, so we’ve made this arrangement to suit their needs.”  

“Of course you have,” I muttered cheekily whilst fumbling to hide my astonishment. “Is that a railway station?” I sounded like an eight-year-old who had just entered Disney World.  

“Yes, the cars are placed on the train by robots too! We send 1,860 cars via train to the river port city of Hamburg every day. From there they are then shipped to the rest of the world.”  

“Ah…,” I nodded pretentiously, as if this was something I frequently witnessed. I was in my late 20s and so trying to hide my feverish temperament was failing as each minute ticked by.  

Inside the factory the technology (even in those days) was out of a sci-fi film. A human-like robot calmly held the windscreen of an E-Class Mercedes whilst another robot released a gluey paste around the edges with precision and fluidity. It was like watching a heart surgeon operate on a human but only smoother. 

“The dashboard you see arriving on the belt above will be fitted into the main body here below within 30 seconds.”  

For a moment I thought my guide was joking with me, as back then I was a monk, dressed in orange robes and looking as if I might be resident in a cave somewhere in the Himalayas. But then I saw the robot in front of me pick up the dashboard at hand and fit it into the mainframe in 20 odd seconds! It was like a quiet day of strawberry picking on a farm for these machines.  

After being guided around the gargantuan and astounding array of technology, efficiency and elegance my guide introduced me to the General Manager. I shared my impressions with him with a tad of excitement after which he said, “thank you, yes…we tend to gather together every day for 30 minutes or so, after we close, to see where we can improve on all of this!” After that calm and casual response, I wasn’t sure whether I ought to be impressed with the staggering sophistication surrounding me…or his statement!  

Something significant happens in you when you are in the presence of excellence and those who are insistent to pursue it. 

There’s something annoyingly attractive about those who are persistent in their pursuit for excellence. It’s as if they are resiliently refining something at hand in the hope of fulfilling another deeper search in the human heart. For these enthusiasts for excellence, a beautiful Mercedes Benz is but a by-product. I’d like to say that it's the outworking of a deeper search.  

We are drawn to the beauty of detail. This impalpable gravitation can be attributed to the Divine, as many around the world do. With the precision and detail of that world around them making it possible. 

I once heard that a Book of wisdom in the Bible called Proverbs could be categorised into three parts: integrity, creativity and excellence. Although I wasn’t a follower of Jesus back in 1999, I can go back to that factory experience and call it a ‘Godly’ moment because something significant happens in you when you are in the presence of excellence and those who are insistent to pursue it.  

Luther’s understanding of the Bible and its implications on work ethic should not be underestimated. 

Nearly 350 miles north of the Mercedes factory lies the university city of Wittenberg. The home of another monk, Martin Luther, and Katherine Vona Bora, his wife – and an unexpected champion of excellence.  

After running away from her nunnery Katherine married Martin Luther and changed the work style and living standards of their lives almost immediately. Katherine had learned how to grow fruits and vegetables in the nunnery and applied this skill to the small piece of land surrounding their residence and turned it into a profit-making farm. The local Prince in Wittenberg witnessed her innovative skills and gave a small monastery for Luther and his wife to live in. Katherine used the profits of the first investment to invest in another farmland and produced profits once again- and this continued. By 1542 the Luther’s owned more land in Wittenberg than any other citizen! She had initiated such a change that sociologist Max Weber discussed it in his classic, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism.

When Luther published Table Talks (based around the discussions in their home when students came to stay or visit), scholars understood clearly how his Biblical exposition (and the indirect defence of his wife’s economic model) created Europe’s spirit of free enterprise.  

Katherine’s work ethic was influenced by St. Benedict’s monastic biblical tradition which St Paul had also taught (whoever does not work, shall not eat). A bit like the General Manager at Mercedes Benz who felt that there was still room for improvement in work.  

Luther’s understanding of the Bible and its implications on work ethic should not be underestimated.  He states that a skilled mechanic “steals' ' when he underperforms at his work for which he is being paid! Not giving your best at something is also called “stealing.” Luther also writes that those who are lazy at work or unfaithful with their work are “worse than sneak- thieves.”  

One can argue that Katherine and Luther’s understanding of work ethics from the Bible gave rise to the enthusiasm for excellence across many spheres of western culture and industry.  

For me, it’s still a chuckling moment to see the often but obvious impression upon the face of a fellow Indian when they read a label marked, ‘Made in Germany.' It says something… let me just say, with all due respect that it doesn't say the same as “Made in India.” At this point in world history my fellow friends in India would agree.  

 I have known many Indians who would buy a Mercedes Benz however old or broken down it may be. On the other hand, in 2023 the German manufacturer broke all its sales records in India, growing 10 per cent year on year. (Mind you, some Benz models in India are twice the cost as those in the USA or UK)!  

So, is it just status? Or Class? No. There may be an element of wealth display, but the deeper desire is the association with excellence, hard work and efficiency. All of which Luther drew from his own Biblical comprehension as well as his creative wife Katherine Von Bora. 

Hindu Monks are not drawn into a far-off corner of Germany to see a luxury car being made. They are drawn (unknowingly) by those of us who are pursuing excellence, elegance and efficiency all of which are tied richly in the wisdom of the Bible.  

Yes, I know what you might be thinking and yes, I have visited other luxury car factories. Aston Martin is a case in point. But on returning to my fellow folk thereafter in 1999 I was surrounded by monks whose faces were struck with awe and wonder and they asked,” did you really go? How was it?” That’s the exclusive magic of Mercedes Benz. Or should I say, Martin Luther and Katherine. And how they understood the Bible.

Column
Comment
Football
Sport
6 min read

Is the Premier League too much of a good thing?

A weary look ahead to the new season.
Four footballers stand arms crossed looking expectant and confident.
Premier League.

Well, it’s the time of year again when my emotional well-being is governed by the weekly performance of Liverpool Football Club. Yes: the Premier League is back!  

The start of a new season is usually abuzz with the excitement of possibilities. So many questions, so many possible outcomes. What will life look like after Jürgen Klopp? Will we win the league? Will we ever sign a defensive midfielder? This should be an exciting time for any football fan; a time of hope, of daring to believe this really is your year. 

So, why does the start of the season fill me with such dread this year?  

Normally as the season starts, I know when all the games are; who Liverpool are playing, where, and when. I’ve watched Liverpool’s pre-season friendlies to see if we’ve changed formation or made tactical tweaks. I’m up to date with all the players bought and sold by clubs across the league.  

Not this year. This year the season has caught me completely off guard and I’m finding the prospect of yet another year of football hard to process. I was invited to join a work fantasy football league this week and, honestly, the thought of it made me want to cry.  

When did the sport I love so much begin to feel like such an obligation? Why does being a football fan feel like such hard work? 

I think I’m just tired of football. No, not tired. Fatigued. Exhausted.  

Or, more accurately, football itself – the sport – is fatigued. As though it’s been drained of all enjoyment. 

As television, rather than sport, football inevitably lives in the aftermath of the ‘HBO effect.’ 

There are all sorts of reasons for this. To start with one of the more obvious ones, Video Assistant Referees (VAR) have turned football into a glorified science project. It’s now a common occurrence for matches to be stopped for extended periods while three men in a portacabin miles away from the game pull out their CGI rulers. All to determine if an attacker has a toenail offside, so they can gleefully disallow a goal and congratulate themselves on a job well done. The line between ‘being right’ and ‘doing right’ is blurred more than ever as commentators bemoan the increasing gulf between ‘the laws of the game’ and ‘the spirit of the game.’  

The standard and nature of refereeing in English football certainly isn’t helping my enjoyment of it. But it’s only part of a wider problem.  

But there’s a truth about football that many football broadcasters and organizations don’t want to face. 

Football is now primarily a televised commodity - content. Most football fans across the globe engage with the sport primarily through a screen, rather than at a stadium. As television, rather than sport, football inevitably lives in the aftermath of the ‘HBO effect.’ 

Prestige HBO shows like The Sopranos, The West Wing, The Wire, Game of Thrones (and countless others besides) have shaped the landscape of TV and, by extension, the culture around us. No longer confined solely to HBO, there seems to be, at any given moment, at least one TV programme you simply have to be watching if you’re going to keep up with the cultural conversation. If you’re not watching, you’re left behind. 

This is the context in which football finds itself in 2024. No longer sport, but drama. And drama that begs to be discussed. A series of prompts for those sought-after ‘water-cooler moments’ that dominate conversation throughout the week. “That was never a red card!”  “We were robbed!” Competitive sport boiled down and reduced to a series of controversies and talking points.  

Because football is more television content than sport now, these controversies are not just discussed in the immediate context of the match in question. No, all week between games, key moments and decisions are slowed down, dissected, viewed from multiple angles, pulled apart. 

I watch matches, and then watch people talk about the matches I’ve watched, until there’s another match to watch. There is simply too much football, and too much talking about football. All in service of football as television. 

On top of this, the matches themselves are only becoming more frequent. This year, the Champions League will have an extra two games in the group stage. 

And then there’s international football. This summer alone, there has been the Euros and the Olympics and, during breaks in the Premier League, players represent their nations in friendlies, World Cup qualifiers, and Nations’ League games (the competition literally no-one asked for).  

This is to say nothing of proposals for a 39th Premier League game played abroad and an expanded Club World Cup from 2025 (again, neither of which fans seem to be clamouring for). 

And all these matches are taking place within this context of football as television content. There’s not just more football, but there’s more football to talk about, more contentious refereeing decisions, more player mistakes and tactical battles to unpick.  

But there’s a truth about football that many football broadcasters and organizations don’t want to face. Loads of it is really boring.  

There’s no guarantee anything of actual interest will happen in any given football match. Goals in football are relatively scarce compared to other sports. Liverpool beat Manchester United 7-0 a few years ago and it was heralded as borderline divine intervention. If a rugby match finished 7-0, fans would be asking for a refund.  

Authentic mundanity will always be more compelling than manufactured drama. 

That’s one of the beautiful things about the beautiful game; it’s authentic. There are no pre-written storylines, and no perfect endings or twists set in stone. It’s real life. Like real life, it can often be mundane.  

That should be no surprise, really. At the end of the day, football is a game we humans created to pass time and have fun. Like all sport, football is human flourishing in practice. By this I mean that, through playing sports, we get a glimpse into what it is we’ve been put here to do: to enjoy our existence. It is an expression of communal joy found in delighting in the physicality of our nature as created beings. When we take it too seriously or make too much of it, we obscure that fundamental truth to which it points, even at its most mundane. That we are creatures created to flourish and find joy in our creatureliness.  

Authentic mundanity will always be more compelling than manufactured drama. In its endless pursuit to inject drama into the sport so it can compete as television, football has lost the mundanity and authenticity that makes it so compelling.   

All of this has been somewhat lost in contemporary football and goes some way to explaining why the thought of yet another season of endless debates, drama, and analysis of the sport I love makes me feel rather exhausted. I just want to watch some people kick a ball.  

So, what are my hopes for this Premier League season? It might sound counterintuitive, but if there was less football and less football drama in my life, that would do for me. Failing that, I’ll take a Liverpool treble.