Lent 1: Marlowe, Faustus, the Devil and Temptation

Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7
Psalm 32
Romans 5:12-19
Matthew 4:1-11

A recent film, Rite, starring Anthony Hopkins, has sparked a renewed interest in the devil and on devilish workings. Hopkins plays a veteran exorcist who is sharing his knowledge and experience with a young seminarian. Shortly after the film’s release I listened to a radio interview with Fr Christopher Jamieson, a Roman Catholic priest and broadcaster. He posited that, when it comes to demonic possession, the question which concerns most people is quite simply, “How does it happen?”. He said, “You can’t become possessed unless you invite the devil into your life.” He discussed the medieval mystery and morality plays in which the angel of light could appear uninvited to save you, for that is the nature of God’s love and redemption; they come graciously unbidden. The devil, on the other hand, “must come on the coat tails of one of the demons – the demons of lust, or greed or envy”. In short, the devil must come in on the coat tails of some of our own human desires and proclivities. This is not just true when it comes to possession, but temptation generally.

The poet and playwright, Christopher Marlowe, lived and worked in the latter half of the 16th century. An inheritor of that medieval tradition, he knew well the world-view to which Fr Jamieson was alluding, and in creating the play Doctor Faustus Marlowe writes a central character who is dissatisfied and thus open to inviting something to satisfy his dis-satisfaction. Having completed studies in all the chief disciplines of the age, he is frustrated by their limitations; frustrated and, on some level, frightened by the limitedness of his own humanity. So, Faustus continues to seek for that which will give him more knowledge still, what he perceives to be real knowledge, and he searches out and finds a book of necromancy – magic – and on discovering the possibilities it contain, muses:

These metaphysics of magicians
And necromantic books are heavenly,
Lines circles, signs, letters, and characters –
Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires.
O, what a world of profit and delight,
Of power, of honour, of omnipotence
Is promised to that studious artisan!
….
A sound magician is a mighty god. (1.1.51-57, 64)

So the devil enters on the coat tails of Faustus’ desire for god-like knowledge and power, and Faustus invites the demonic forces in. So appears Mephistopheles, a servant of Lucifer, with assurances to deliver all that the good doctor desires, if Faustus will – you guessed it – sign over his soul and all hope of salvation. He does so, and is allotted 24 years to enjoy his “purchase”. Ironically, while he had envisioned knowledge and ability greater than that of any sage or emperor, the play proceeds with scenes of his using his dearly-bought abilities in ridiculous, meaningless exploits: selling, for a prank, a horse that turns into straw when ridden, being invisible at the papal court and playing tricks on the prelates, impressing European royalty by fetching grapes in the winter. In the end the fate he sealed at the beginning arrives at its consummation, and Faustus is taken off to that fate by Lucifer himself, in company with Mephistopheles and other devils.

It is seems almost unnecessary to highlight the significances the Faust story uncovers for us, particularly during Lent; nor the correlations with those scripture readings the Church offers this Sunday for our proclamation and reflection. Evil always finds an opening by appealing to our desires, and usually some seemingly very innocent, even beneficial, desires. Faustus’ desire for knowledge is in itself admirable. Yet, what knowledge will he ultimately find in the pits of eternal alienation from God – God who is the source of all genuine knowledge, wisdom and power? In fact, we see the beginnings of that eventually complete alienation during Faustus’ lifetime, as we witness him using the knowledge gained in order to execute ridiculous and meaningless pranks. He has knowledge and power, but without being connected to their true source, God, he has little ability to direct them beneficially; and in the end he will lose the possibility utterly. Blinded by the benefits of knowledge alone, he loses sight of the fact that without God, it exists in an vacuum of both meaning and order, and can throw up some pretty harmful consequences.

Like Faustus, Adam and Eve are on some level frustrated by limitedness, and the serpent plays on this: “when you eat of [the fruit] your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” (Genesis 3:5) What is offered is seemingly very beneficial indeed – the knowledge of good and evil. Yet, there is something else inherent in the serpent’s offer: the temptation to be like God, the assumption that God is hiding something from them, that the serpent sees the situation from a wider perspective, that the serpent is the true friend of humanity. The serpent preys on humanity’s fear of and frustration with their limitations. It’s not just knowledge of good and evil which the serpent offers, but also the remedy to some of the dilemmas inherent in being human: our limited knowledge and perspective, not to mention our existential loneliness.

The devil comes in on the coat tails of both our conscious and unconscious desires, and at our invitation, as we seek easy escape from what we perceive to be the limitations of our humanity. The narrative of Jesus’ temptation in the desert is one of the most psychologically savvy pieces of writing in the Gospels, indeed in the Scriptures themselves. It confronts square in the face those desires: the desire for enough so as to be utterly free from want, the desire for absolute safety so as to be completely free from fear or injury, the desire for power so as to be totally free from the consequences of others’ lives and choices; and it is on the coat tails of these that the devil enters in and appears to Jesus in the desert. Like to Faustus and Adam and Eve, the devil makes to Jesus good arguments – from Scripture itself – and offers a way to conquer those nagging human limitations of hunger, fear and helplessness. And it’s not that what the devil offers isn’t good in itself – freedom from want, danger and oppression – but that these positive goods divorced from God, the source of all good, can only ever be a pale shadow of reality. So, in each offer made by the tempter – as Matthew calls him – Jesus returns to the real source of plenty, of safety, of power – God: “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” (Matthew 4:4); “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” (Matthew 4:7); “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.” (Matthew 4:10) Jesus embraces the limitedness of humanity, appreciating the proper nature of our humanity and therefore the proper divinity of God. He knows that any offer which does not come from God always comes with a catch, that any truth which is not grounded in God can only ever be a half truth at best, that safety procured outside the protection of God may be more perilous in the end than any dangers we may face with God.

In Jesus’ wilderness encounter with the tempter are unmasked humanity’s most primordial fears and desires; and let’s be honest, not unlike Faustus, we all of us at some point or another have sold something of ourselves in order to alleviate the anxiety those fears produce. We all us have been or are frustrated by our human limitdness. However, there is a difference between us and Faustus. In Marlowe’s play – and for dramatic effect, one would hazard to guess – in the end, although Faustus repents, he is still dragged to hell. In reality the path to repentance is always open to us. In Lent we recall our sins and weaknesses, the times when we have “sold out”, but we also are reminded by the prophet Isaiah to “seek the LORD while he may be found, call upon him while he is near…[to] return to the LORD, that he may mercy…and to our God, for he will abundandtly pardon” (Isaiah 55:6, 7b) God’s goodness and forgiveness need no disguise to allure us, neither do they need trickery to hoodwink us. They may not give immediate answer to our fears and desires, but in the end it is only God – God’s goodness and God’s grace – which have any currency or meaning at all, anything else will ultimately disappoint or carry with it worse – “a hellish fall” and fate, both in this life and the next.