Peter Shaffer

I feel mildly insincere proclaiming my great admiration for a playwright’s work when I’ve really only carefully studied two of his works. But as both those works are undisputed masterpieces, I think it only right to note Peter Shaffer’s death last week by discussing Equus and Amadeus.

I can’t remember whether I saw the film or read the play (I believe in my college freshman English class) first, but I do know that the reading was when I was struck by the struggle of Amadeus’ lead character, Salieri. In exchange for musical gifting, Salieri had offered God piety and devotion, and so felt betrayed when the “obscene child” Mozart manifested an effortless genius which Salieri could never hope to attain. Salieri’s plot to avenge himself against God by destroying Mozart demonstrated a zealous adherence to the principle of justification by works seen only by the Pharisees and the counter-reformation’s inquisitors. That Shaffer could draw an entirely human portrait of such a man was itself a demonstration of apparently effortless genius.

Equus preceded Amadeus. Again, I can’t remember when I first encountered it, although I know it was during my university days when I was particularly preoccupied with how questions of theology and faith are worked out in the arts. In Equus, the only way a boy crippled by guilt and shame can think to save himself is by attacking a god of his own creation. In both Equus and Amadeus, the lead character locates the source of his turmoil not in himself or in his sin, but in the God who is his ultimate judge.

Shaffer’s characters toil beneath the gaze of a pitiless God, with no whisper of hope that he might have delivered himself over for the forgiveness of some. Nonetheless, Shaffer understood that humanity is, fundamentally, homo adorans. Our lives are measured, then, not by our accomplishments, but by our service and worship to the God who is.