Some evangelical Christians think that liberals have sold their souls to the devil. And some liberals believe the same of conservatives. Each side often sees the other as having sold out, or been seduced by destructive impulses. The only option, it seems, is a kind of cultural warfare: to hate the enemy and wish them the worst.
Process theology offers a different response—not by denying the reality of destructive impulses within the human psyche, but by suggesting that, moment by moment, we are all sinners. We all make Faustian bargains with the devil, here understood as the enemy of our better selves. We succumb to hateful lures within our own individual and collective psyches, demonizing the other. There is no hope in this. Erika Kirk, the wife of Charlie Kirk, sees the alternative clearly: “The answer to hate is not hate. The answer we know from the gospel is love, and always love. Love for our enemies and love for those who persecute us.”
How might we follow her lead? The path into love, on both sides, involves honest self-examination—an acknowledgment of where the lure toward hatred of enemies has taken over, and where, in principle, we have sold our souls to the devil. This is the process response: to move past an obsession with the speck in another person’s eye and to recognize the log in our own.
The Faustian Bargain
Many movers and shakers of our world—political leaders, executives, billionaires—have made “Faustian bargains,” deals in which they sacrifice moral or spiritual integrity for power, success, or knowledge. The effects of their bargains are having a disastrous impact on our nations and on the world.
But in criticizing them, we ought not let ourselves off the hook. Truth be told, we all make Faustian bargains in our daily lives: micro-bargains, as it were. We compromise our principles or integrity in order to be liked, to avoid awkwardness, or simply to make life easier. We pass over opportunities to speak truth to power, to be honest about our convictions, or to take the stands we know we ought to take. It is not only the so-called “big people” who make such bargains. We ordinary folks do it, too. We, too, sell our souls to the devil: the enemy of our better selves.
The Devil
At least this is how process philosophers and theologians can understand the devil. The devil may or may not exist as an actual agent in the dark regions of the cosmos; but the devil does exist as a cluster of subjective aims or desires within our individual and collective psyches, by which we can be inwardly lured to destructive and sometimes malicious ends.
These aims can be conscious or unconscious. They include the desire to dominate, to be in complete control, and to enjoy privilege at the expense of others, They are deeply selfish and yet deeply seductive. These negative lures run counter to another aim within us, which is to be in creative communion with other people and the rest of the world in a spacious way. If the devilish aims are lures to conquer, this alternative aim is the lure of love. For process theologians it is how God is present in us. For Christians, it is the power of the Holy Spirit within our hearts. Neither of these kinds of lures - the lure to love and the lure to conquer - are all-powerful. They are attractive. one in a seductive way and one in a life-enhancing way, but they cannot actualize themselves without our cooperation. At some level we can choose between them. This is why it can be important in a person's life to make a fundamental decision: to choose a way of living oriented toward conquest or love. For many Christians, this fundamental decision is to decide for Christ - not only out of fear of hell, but out of an inner sense that, after all, love is a better way to live, for the self and for God.
Selling Your Soul to the Devil
It is easy to condemn the devilish aims as if they were entirely evil. This is not the case. They often arise from legitimate human needs that have become distorted and obsessive: the need to be perfect, to be needed, to be flattered, to be unique, to be wise, to belong, to avoid suffering, to enjoy pleasure, to be in control, to have peace of mind, and, perhaps above all, the need to be loved.
The needs themselves are natural and good, but when they become the central organizing principles of psychic life, they turn obsessive—they come to control us, and we become slaves to them. In our compulsiveness, we harm ourselves and others. In such moments, we have made our Faustian bargain, having sold our souls to the devil.
For most of us, I suspect, the selling occurs gradually and unconsciously. We are lured by the devilish aims, they become compulsions, and before we know it we are slaves to the compulsions, almost helpless. We are addicted and don't even know it. It becomes our normal state.
The antidote, if there is one, is to be challenged and held accountable by supportive communities, to do our best to surrender to divine lures to become our better selves, allowing that surrender to become a habit of the heart and not just a thought in the mind. The antidote is also to confess our compulsions, our vices, to ourselves and others. To confess that we, too, have made a Faustian Bargain, Which takes me to Dr. Faustus.
Dr. Faustus and the Faustian Bargain
The phrase "Faustian Bargain" arises from the Faust legend, a German folk tale about Johann Georg Faust, a scholar and magician who, according to the story, sold his soul to the devil. The story was made famous in English by the playwright and poet Christopher Marlowe, whose The Tragical History of Dr. Faustus (c. 1592) brought the legend to the stage, and later given philosophical and literary depth by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe in his two-part drama Faust (1808, 1832). Since then, it has been retold countless times—not only in literature but also in music, theater, and film.
To my mind Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus is especially helpful in a contemporary context, as i helps us take note of macro-bargains and micro-bargains, while discussion the play. At face value, it is a work of moral instruction, reminding us that selling one’s soul—literally or figuratively—for short-term gain will not end well. As the story goes, Dr. Faustus makes a pact with the devil: twenty-four years of pleasure, power, and spectacle in exchange for his soul. The moral is clear: it is not wise to sell our souls for such fleeting rewards. Like Dr. Faustus—not only as individuals but also as nations—we may well be dragged into hell.
But the play also carries psychological depth, inviting us into a process of self-examination of Dr. Faustus' psyche and our own. It is possible that this self-examination can occur in groups consisting of both conservative and liberal Christians, such that they can examine themselves together, being as honest as they can about whatever bargains have seduced them. Imagine, then, a book club in, say, Glendale, Arizona, where the memorial service for Charlie Kirk was held. The club consists of people who were at the rally and people who stayed home. Here are discussion prompts that can guide the discussion.
Eight Discussion Prompts for Dr. Faustus
What lies within Faustus that prompts him to make his bargain? What restlessness, ambition, or dissatisfaction drives him to seek more than ordinary life can offer?
What “lures” or promises tempt Faustus most? Are they simply evil, or do they begin with something good—such as a desire for knowledge, belonging, or freedom—that becomes distorted?
How much freedom does Faustus really have? Does he choose freely, or is he trapped by his own desires and the patterns of his past?
Does Faustus act out of ignorance or full knowledge? Does he truly understand the consequences of his deal, and if so, why does he go forward anyway?
Why does Faustus refuse to change at the end? Is it pride, despair, fear, or something else that prevents him from turning back?
Is Faustus aiming for something higher—perhaps to become “godlike”? If so, how does this higher aspiration become corrupted into a destructive path?
What parallels can we find in our own lives? What “micro-bargains” do we make—small compromises of principle for the sake of comfort, success, or being liked?
Do our highest aspirations also risk distortion? How can noble desires (for justice, security, recognition, peace of mind) lead us astray if pursued without balance, humility, or compassion?
The purpose of self-examination is not to stop with the examination, It is to move forward, in honesty and love, to grow in self-awareness, gentleness of spirit. To grow in kindness. It is to do something Dr. Faustus could not do: to change for the better, before it is too late.
From a process perspective, we are all on a continuing journey and that journey does not end with death. Even in an afterlife, even if hellish, the love of God continues to be at work as a lure toward the good, the true, the beautiful, and the loving. There is hope, even for Dr. Faustus. Even for the devil. But the seductive lures can be so powerful, that responding to that lure, can, for some souls, take a long, long time. We cannot worry the devil today, except to be honest about the devils that have found a place within each of us, wherever we are, whenever we surrender to hatred, conquest, and control. If we are Christian, the task at hand is for each of us, conservative and liberal, to uncouplse our hearts from the enemies of our better selves, as best we can, and walk into a deeper and wider light: the light of our teacher who taught us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.
For Further Study
The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus
"Dive into the depths of ambition and despair with Classical Mind Podcast as hosts Junius Johnson and Wesley Walker unravel the timeless tale of Christopher Marlowe's Doctor Faustus. Explore the haunting pact Faustus makes with the devil, as we delve into the intricate web of ambition, knowledge, and the consequences of forbidden desires."
Royal Shakespeare Society Production
of Marlowe's Dr. Faustus
Emma Smith on Doctor Faustus
"Dr Emma Smith's research combines a range of approaches to Shakespeare and early modern drama. She is currently working on the First Folio (1623), a project combining aspects of the history of the book, histories of reading, and the interpretation of Shakespeare on the page. Her next project will be on the construction of character in printed drama. With Tamara Atkin at QMUL, she is working on the way cast lists in printed drama through the sixteenth and seventeenth century can inform our understanding of the experience of seeing, as well as reading, plays. She is part of a team of scholars revising the Riverside Shakespeare under the general editorship of Douglas Bruster. She is also interested in drama in performance, in the methodology of writing about theatre, in reviewing and its rhetoric, and in developing analogies between cinema, film theory, and early modern performance. She is working with Charlotte Brewer on a pilot project on the Oxford English Dictionary and Shakespeare, which they hope will develop into a website and associated publications on the issue of Shakespeare’s linguistic creativity and how it has been recorded. Pedagogy is important to her and she continues to work on readerly editions of early modern texts and on books, articles and lectures which disseminate research to the widest possible audience. A good example is her involvement in the 'Sprint for Shakespeare' project."
Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus
ChatGPT
Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus (first performed around 1592, published in 1604 in its “A-text” and 1616 in its longer “B-text”) is one of the great plays of the English Renaissance and a cornerstone of early modern tragedy. Here’s a structured overview:
Plot Overview
Faustus’ Ambition: Dr. Faustus, a brilliant scholar in Wittenberg, grows dissatisfied with the limits of traditional learning—law, medicine, philosophy, and theology. He turns to necromancy, longing for boundless power and knowledge.
The Pact: Faustus conjures Mephistopheles, servant of Lucifer, and signs a blood pact: 24 years of service and supernatural power in exchange for his soul.
Pleasures and Tricks: Instead of great achievements, Faustus squanders his gifts on petty tricks, conjuring spectacles, and entertaining nobles. He cannot transcend triviality, despite his immense opportunity.
Moments of Doubt: Angels (Good and Evil) embody his inner conflict, urging repentance or continued sin. Faustus wavers but never decisively turns to God.
Final Scene: As his time runs out, Faustus delivers a powerful soliloquy, begging for mercy, fearing damnation. At midnight, devils drag him to hell. Scholars find his mutilated body the next morning.
Major Themes
Overreaching and Hubris: Faustus epitomizes Renaissance human ambition—reaching beyond human limits, echoing the myth of Icarus.
Knowledge vs. Wisdom: His desire for knowledge degenerates into shallow displays. Marlowe critiques the misuse of intellect without moral grounding.
Good and Evil: The psychological drama is as important as the external events. The Good Angel and Evil Angel dramatize Faustus’ divided will.
Tragedy of Wasted Potential: His tragedy is not only damnation but also triviality—he might have reshaped the world but instead becomes a court jester with magic tricks.
Salvation and Damnation: The play wrestles with questions of repentance, grace, and the possibility of forgiveness, highlighting tensions in Elizabethan Protestant theology.
Style and Significance
Blank Verse: Marlowe’s mastery of blank verse set the stage for Shakespeare. His “mighty line” gave Elizabethan drama a new poetic grandeur.
Tragic Hero: Faustus anticipates later tragic heroes torn by inner conflict (Hamlet, Macbeth). His flaw is ambition mixed with despair.
Religious Controversy: The play reflects Reformation anxieties about salvation, free will, predestination, and the nature of sin.
Cultural Legacy: The Faust legend became central to Western imagination, inspiring Goethe’s Faust, operas by Gounod and Boito, symphonies by Liszt, and countless retellings.
Famous Moments
The contract signed in blood.
The summoning of Helen of Troy: “Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships / And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?”
Faustus’ final monologue, a desperate cry against eternity: time, mountains, stars—all invoked in vain to save him from damnation.