Although the play centers itself very obviously amidst a fervent religious debate, that is, a conversation about the nature of redemption and damnation, a more pressing topic is implied. Dr. Faustus claims to be bored by his accomplishments, having obtained everything he wished to seek form academia and the safe sciences, and thus his interest in necromancy is fostered. But the root of this interest lies in power, and a desire to obtain such power as no man can compete with, committing the classic folly of reaching beyond his own capacity. His arrogance is betrayed by his blood oath, his inconsiderate use of Mephistopheles, and a constant wavering between Christian moral standards.
The futility of his plight is in Faustus’ inability to accept his own morality. Indeed, he seems to claim that his blood oaths are non-binding in the sense that hell is pure fiction, which might seem illogical considering who he is conversing with. In fact, it is apparent that he has no grand powers, only the terms of a business deal, in which Mephistopheles is the muscle behind his bizarre displays of occult prowess. This reaffirms the idea that he, as a mortal, is unable to contain such godly, or ungodly, powers in his own being. It is only his willingness to abandon God that calls the devils, and his human lust for power and acclaim that drive his decisions. One could even argue that his moral status is negligible, and that it is the paradox of being human with a penchant for the taste of divinity that unravels him, and rushes him to his end. It’s a funny thing, to want powers, that by their very definition, separate a mortal from humanity. In obtaining them they can no longer be used to propagate human desire, and instead come with the full consequence of removal from the realm of living. He is no longer able to repent like all other people, having wrapped himself so tightly in the arms of “sinful” strength, amongst the other demons. His academic learning, his scholarly colleagues, even the voice of wisdom is unable to reverse the damage incurred.
An interesting parallel is drawn to the story of Eve, when Faustus laments his misfortune, because although the serpent who distributed knowledge can be saved from wrath, there is no saving him from the depth of his betrayal. In an interesting twist, this forces Faustus into the role of Eve, another figure who eschewed the rules of Christian Morality to obtain beyond her supposed capacity. So the real concern becomes, what is the drive behind the human quest for inhuman power? The only escape for Faustus, as he acknowledges in his final moments, is to suspend reality. If the second runs on eternally, or he can absorb a half a drop of redeeming blood, his fate is less tragic. “Earth Gape!” he cries, “it will not harbor me.” In the final day of judgment there is only heaven an hell, and no earth, which on a surface level is solely the realm of the religious. But, in truth, it is a statement that reflects the predicament of Faustus, which he only discovers too late, that it is, and remains, impossible to combine divine creation (ultimate power) and human existence without an incomparable sacrifice at one extreme or the other.
