Even before Wednesday’s game, there was a general consensus that if England lost, Steve McClaren would have to go. So, it’s no surprise that he has gone, along with his assistant, Terry Venables. This, we have come to believe, is what it means to take responsibility.
It’s interesting, then, to compare this with the political arena, where the Chancellor, Alistair Darling, has neither been sacked nor resigned over the missing CDs. Instead, there is talk of ‘a single, maverick junior official operating in contravention of the rules’. In other words, it wasn’t the Chancellor’s fault.
Is Mr Darling failing to take responsibility, or is he just honestly identifying the cause of the problem and taking responsibility by directing efforts to resolve it? How comfortable would any of us be with sacrificing our career because of the mistakes of others? For that matter, was McClaren really to blame for England’s defeat? Why not the players? Or the chief executive of the FA? Or the jeering fans?
Both these situations prompt us to reflect on the extent to which our culture now dictates that to take responsibility for mistakes made is to deny oneself the opportunity to make amends for those mistakes. It seems that in equating taking responsibility with reaching the end of the road, we have exiled repentance from the field of public truth. It now sits on the bench, watching the action from the confines of our private religiosity (where it undoubtedly offers great personal comfort).
But we are to love others as ourselves. Surely this extends to allowing them to experience the joys and possibilities opened up by repentance? Too often, perhaps, we worry that our willingness to create opportunities for repentance to work will be construed by others as allowing those at fault to evade their responsibilities.
Nothing, of course, could be further from the truth. Nothing, that is, but the lack of grace evidenced by our outlawing of repentance.
Nigel Hopper
Reproduced with permission: © The London Institute for Contemporary Christianity
