Title of Original Work:
“The Origin and Decline of the Christian Religion in India”
by Captain F. W. Wilford
Publication Context:
This essay was originally published in Asiatic Researches, Volume X, 1811, edited by the Asiatic Society of Bengal. The essay appears in pages 40–141 of that volume. The Asiatic Researches series was a leading scholarly journal of its time, dedicated to the study of the languages, histories, and cultures of the Indian subcontinent, founded under the guidance of Sir William Jones and the early Orientalists.
Wilford ventures a bold thesis: that the story of Jesus Christ—or at least its essential spiritual impulse—may have appeared in Indian tradition long before or alongside its flowering in the West.
📜 Preface to the Modern Edition
This modernized presentation of Captain F. W. Wilford’s “The Origin and Decline of the Christian Religion in India” is part historical inquiry, part speculative theology, and part orientalist curiosity. First composed in the early 19th century, Wilford’s essay reflects the spirit of its time: an age of empire and exploration, when European scholars were first confronting the vast, rich traditions of India not merely as colonial administrators but as seekers of meaning and comparative truth.
Wilford belonged to that first generation of British orientalists stationed in India who—fueled by missionary hopes, esoteric leanings, and genuine fascination—attempted to reconcile Western biblical traditions with the spiritual treasures of the East. In so doing, he participated in a nascent but enduring project: the search for a common origin or universal thread linking the world’s great religions.
This modernized edition is not an endorsement of all his assumptions, nor a defense of the colonial gaze through which he often viewed his subject. Rather, it is an effort to preserve and reframe Wilford’s speculative bridge-building—honoring his deep questions while updating his language, refining his approach, and gently distancing the work from outdated cultural biases.
Where necessary, Wilford’s more extravagant or unfounded claims are presented with care and footnoted. But we have chosen not to sanitize his voice entirely. His essay remains a document of its age, and in its probing earnestness, it continues to offer something valuable: a daring vision of religious history not as a battleground of exclusive truths, but as a conversation across time, culture, and revelation.
May this edition be received not only as a historical artifact, but as a stimulus for dialogue in our own time—a time once again in need of bridges between worlds.
— The Editor
Beezone Press
📖 Introduction: A Shared Light in Many Lamps
In this essay, Captain F. W. Wilford ventures a bold thesis: that the story of Jesus Christ—or at least its essential spiritual impulse—may have appeared in Indian tradition long before or alongside its flowering in the West. Drawing on ancient Indian scriptures, calendar systems, messianic myths, and linguistic parallels, Wilford suggests that a Christ-like figure, known as Isa-Masih or Śālivaḥana, may have walked the soil of India, taught its people, and left traces in its sacred memory.
This is not a conventional historical claim. Wilford does not offer archaeology or manuscript evidence in the modern sense. Rather, his essay is a work of comparative myth and sacred typology. He reads Indian texts with the eyes of a Christian seeker—not to reduce them, but to illuminate them with shared meaning. He sees in the figure of Śālivaḥana a pattern familiar to any student of the Gospels: miraculous birth, divine mission, moral teaching, mysterious disappearance, and the founding of a new sacred era.
Wilford’s curiosity is particularly stirred by the Indian Śaka Era, which begins near the traditional year of Christ’s birth; by Sanskrit names like Isa, resonant with Jesus; and by puranic texts that appear to describe a holy teacher born of a virgin in a distant land, sent to guide the mlecchas (foreigners).
But just as quickly as these echoes appear, they vanish. The central question of the essay is not only about origins, but about decline. Why did these possible references to Christ not lead to a durable Christian tradition in India? Wilford’s answer is subtle. He sees India not as rejecting Christ, but absorbing him—translating his figure into local forms, blending him with preexisting avatar traditions, and allowing his message to flow underground, forgotten yet still alive in the mythic soil.
This is Wilford at his most generous. He does not argue for Christian triumphalism, but for a deeper unity. He proposes that the world’s religious systems are not separate wells, but rather different openings into the same subterranean river—each shaped by geography, language, and culture, yet drawing from a common spiritual source.
Today, Wilford’s ideas might be received with caution. His work sits at the crossroads of colonial history, religious comparison, and speculative imagination. And yet, in our fractured world—where suspicion too often replaces curiosity—his central intuition deserves renewed attention:
That the Light may have entered many lands, worn many faces, and spoken many tongues.
That truth may be revealed not once, but repeatedly, each time adapted to the needs of a particular people.
And that in Isa-Masih, Śālivaḥana, Krishna, or Christ, we may be encountering not strangers, but kindred manifestations of the Divine.
With that spirit, we offer this modernized edition: not as final word, but as an opening into deeper questions.
A Caution of the Time
1792
🔍 CONTEXT:
“Remarks by the President” (Sir William Jones, President of the Asiatic Society) accompanies Lieutenant Francis Wilford’s essay on connections between ancient Hindu texts and other ancient civilizations, particularly Egypt and the Nile (Ca’li’ River).
📜 MODERN SUMMARY OF THE PASSAGE:
1. Admiration for Wilford’s Work
The President begins by expressing great admiration for Wilford’s essay. He confesses that, although he had been skeptical at first, Wilford’s use of Sanskrit texts and his extensive citations from the Puranas (ancient Hindu scriptures) convinced him of the accuracy and authenticity of the material.
2. Confirmation through Firsthand Study
He personally reviewed the Sanskrit passages—some on his own and others with a Pandit (Hindu scholar)—and affirms that Wilford’s translations and references are faithful and honest.
3. Shared Myths: Noah and Satyavrata
The President cites Wilford’s claim that Satyavrata (or Satyavarman) from the Puranas is the same figure as Noah from the Hebrew Bible. He notes that this comparison sets a maximum limit for Hindu chronology—since it anchors Hindu myth within a biblical timeframe. He emphasizes that this parallel does not mean Moses copied Egyptian stories, but that biblical truth stands on its own, even if Egypt and India had similar tales.
4. Cross-Cultural Connections
He supports the idea that Greek mythology has deep roots in older Indian traditions:
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Cepheus and Cassiopeia = Capeya and Casyapi
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Perseus and Andromeda = Parasica and Antarmada
5. Echoing Bacon’s View
The President praises Lord Francis Bacon for suggesting that Greek myths are borrowed or inherited from more ancient civilizations—like India. He uses Bacon’s metaphor that myths are like “light airs” or melodies blown through Greek flutes from older cultures.
6. Caution on Conjecture
However, he warns against relying too heavily on conjectural etymology—the practice of linking names and words between cultures based on how they sound. While he finds Wilford’s ideas clever and often plausible, he reminds the reader that conjecture is not the same as evidence.
7. Final Praise
The President ends by quoting Lord Bacon, saying that Wilford has preserved something precious—a “venerable tablet” (i.e., historical truth)—from the shipwreck of time. He calls Wilford’s work painstaking, but highly rewarding and deserving of gratitude.
🪶 In Short:
This is a formal endorsement of Wilford’s ambitious attempt to trace cross-cultural parallels between Indian, Egyptian, and Greco-Roman antiquity. While praising Wilford’s diligence and insight, the President also urges scholarly caution, distinguishing solid evidence from speculative connections.
📘 Modernized Version – Section I
Origin and Decline of the Christian Religion in India
by Captain F. W. Wilford
Section I: The Universal Expectation of a Saviour
Long before the time of Christ, a belief in the coming of a divine savior and a renewal of the world was widespread across many cultures. This expectation included the arrival of a King of Peace and Justice who would restore righteousness. In Indian tradition, such themes appear frequently in the Purāṇas, where the Earth is depicted as groaning under the burden of human sin, nearly sinking back into Pātāla (the underworld). The gods, too, lament the growing power of the giants (asuras). In response, Viṣṇu, consort of the Earth and protector of cosmic order, assures her and the gods that he will send a savior. This redeemer would be born into the home of a shepherd and raised among shepherds—an incarnation intended to end the tyranny of the demons (Daityas).
Among Buddhists, it is unanimously stated that Buddha’s incarnation through a virgin birth had been foretold long before it occurred—some say several thousand years, others say at least a thousand.
In the Western world, particularly just prior to the birth of Christ, both Jews and Romans shared similar expectations. Based on the Sibylline books and the oracles of the Etruscan augurs, it was widely believed that a transformative event was imminent. In the East as well, men of spiritual insight watched for signs—one of which was a miraculous star, which guided sages to the prophesied child.
Indian tradition holds that during this same time, the Emperor of India—alarmed by these widespread prophecies—feared that such a savior would herald the fall of his own rule. He therefore sent emissaries to verify the child’s birth and, if found, to destroy him. This is said to have occurred in 3101 of the Kali Yuga, which corresponds with the beginning of the Christian Era (1 CE). This tradition, whether oral or written, is commonly known throughout India among both scholars and laypeople.
However, Indian tradition tends to interpret these prophecies as having been fulfilled not by Jesus, but by Kṛṣṇa. The reasons the Brahmins embraced this interpretation are unclear, but it is possible they understood that accepting Jesus as the fulfillment of these prophecies would require a substantial revision of their religious doctrine.
In the biblical story, the wise men (Magi) who came from the East were likewise anticipating this global transformation; the star simply led them to its earthly manifestation. Such expectations were not unique to India or the Middle East. Among the Gothic tribes of the North, similar ideas prevailed. In time, certain ambitious men began to declare themselves as the prophesied “Manu” or “new Adam”, and were even accepted as such.
One such example comes from Norse tradition. Reports of divine figures—Æsir or Ases, described as gods or god-like men—were said to be arriving from the East. According to the legends, Gylfi, a Norse king, was sent to investigate. This embassy is the foundation of the Norse Edda, which concludes with the remarkable statement:
“The new Ases then took the names of the ancient ones and claimed to be the true gods.”
Among these figures was Odin, who journeyed north, where Gylfi surrendered his kingdom to him.
These widespread beliefs about a cosmic change catalyzed new religious movements. In Britain, for example, a new system was established that stood in direct opposition to the old one. According to the scholar Mr. Cleland, this change likely occurred prior to the Christian era, though I believe it came later. Figures such as Hengist and Horsa, believed to be in the tenth generation from a “new Odin,” are part of this lineage. The legendary Trenmor, deified by his great-grandson Fingal, was enshrined in a Celtic “Elysium” (afterlife) reserved for warriors—excluding the weak and possibly even the priesthood. The ancient Gaelic poems show a clear disdain for the older religious systems.
The fall of the Druids, especially their defeat in Anglesea, likely accelerated the demise of their religion. These losses, combined with prophecies of an impending civil and religious transformation, created an opportunity for ambitious leaders to either claim to be the long-awaited savior or elevate their own ancestors to divine status.
Fingal, among them, was most successful. Until recently, many Irish peasants still believed that souls of the departed went to the Elysium of Trenmor and Mac Cowal. Had Christianity not become dominant, Trenmor himself might have been worshipped as the supreme being.
In the Roman context, Emperor Augustus was, predictably, deified after his death. Even during his lifetime, temples were erected in his honor, and sacrifices were made to him. The partisans of Mark Antony took a similar approach—declaring him to be a reborn Osiris, and Cleopatra as Isis.
Roman poet Virgil, in his Fourth Eclogue, proclaims that the long-foretold renewal of the world was finally arriving. It would begin, as all golden ages do, with a miraculous birth. Then, legendary events would be reenacted: the Argonauts would return, the Trojan War would replay, and another Achilles would again rise.
Wilford boldly notes that these very themes—heroic war, divine descent, apocalyptic transformation—mirror those found in the Puranic and epic traditions of India.
📘 Modernized Version – Section II
Section II: The Legend of Śālivaḥana and the Christian Parallel
In India, the narrative of a divine child who appeared near the beginning of the Christian era is intimately tied to the legend of Śālivaḥana. According to Indian tradition, Śālivaḥana was born in the year 3101 of the Kali Yuga, which is also the first year of the Christian era (1 CE).
He was reportedly born to a virgin daughter of a potter, who conceived him without sexual union. In her dream, she was visited by a divine being who foretold that she would bear a son destined for greatness. When the child was born, his skin was described as resplendent, and serpents gathered protectively around him. At his naming ceremony, he was given the name Śālivaḥana, and tales of his miraculous nature began to spread.
As he grew, he was raised among potters and shepherds, much like the childhood of Krishna or the biblical Jesus. He reportedly performed miracles as a child: forming birds out of clay and then breathing life into them—a clear echo of apocryphal Christian stories about the boy Jesus.
Eventually, Śālivaḥana’s fame grew. He defeated Vikramāditya, a powerful and often semi-mythical king of India, and then disappeared mysteriously. This disappearance was interpreted by some as a divine return to the heavens. In his absence, legends flourished, and his life became the subject of veneration.
A noteworthy aspect of Śālivaḥana’s story is the symbol of the serpent, often depicted around him. In this, he resembles Christ as seen by the Ophites—a Gnostic sect that revered the serpent as a symbol of divine wisdom, not as the tempter. The serpent on a cross, used by both Ophite Christians and Indian iconography, symbolizes the revelation of divine knowledge and transformation.
The story of Śālivaḥana’s divine birth and life became widespread throughout India. According to some accounts, a foreign teacher (possibly Jesus) visited Śālivaḥana. In this version, Śālivaḥana asked the teacher who he was, and the reply was:
“I am born of a virgin, the destroyer of evil, and the protector of the good.”
He added, “I was called Isa-Masih, born in a western land.”
This figure also said that he followed the truth of non-duality, taught that the one God was formless, and condemned idol worship. After this exchange, Śālivaḥana honored the teacher and allowed him to stay in India for a time.
Some Christian commentators, including early missionaries, claimed this passage as evidence that Jesus visited India during the “missing years” of his life—between ages 12 and 30. Although modern historians often dismiss this as speculation or myth, the resonance between Śālivaḥana and Christ is striking enough to warrant reflection.
Moreover, Śālivaḥana was said to have changed the calendar—beginning a new era with his rule, known as the Śaka era. This calendar reform further aligns him with epochal change, just as Christ’s birth would later divide the Western calendar into Before Christ (BC) and Anno Domini (AD).
In summation, the mythos surrounding Śālivaḥana in Indian tradition closely mirrors key aspects of the Christian account of Jesus Christ:
- A virgin birth
- Miraculous childhood acts
- A spiritual mission challenging religious orthodoxy
- A symbolic association with serpents
- A new calendrical epoch
- A mysterious departure, or ascent
The convergence of these themes invites a deeper study of cross-cultural religious archetypes, especially in relation to Indian and early Christian cosmology.
📘 Modernized Version – Section III
Section III: Doctrinal Convergence and the Symbol of the Serpent
One of the most remarkable commonalities between ancient Indian and early Christian traditions lies in the symbolism of the serpent. In the Christian scriptures, the serpent has traditionally been interpreted as a representation of temptation and evil. However, some early sects of Christianity, particularly the Ophites, revered the serpent as a symbol of divine wisdom—not as the enemy of God but as an emissary of higher knowledge.
According to the Ophites, the serpent in the Garden of Eden was not the devil, but a being who helped open the eyes of Adam and Eve. This sect believed that the serpent was actually Christ in disguise, bringing the light of gnosis (divine knowledge) to humanity. This view was considered heretical by orthodox Christianity but is strikingly similar to Indian views of the nāga, or divine serpent, which often represents protection, transformation, and hidden wisdom.
In the Hindu tradition, the Nāga is not evil. It is sacred and deeply associated with Viṣṇu, Śiva, and Buddha. Śeṣa, the cosmic serpent, is the very bed on which Viṣṇu rests between the cycles of creation. When Buddha is meditating, it is the nāga Mucilinda who shelters him from the storm. Serpents in India are often shown as protectors of spiritual aspirants, not deceivers.
Moreover, the staff of Moses, which becomes a serpent and is later raised up to heal the Israelites (Numbers 21:9), prefigures the Christian symbol of the serpent on the cross—an image curiously parallel to Indian imagery, particularly in the serpent-sheltered meditating figure or in Tantric diagrams where serpents represent awakened energy rising through the spine (kuṇḍalinī).
There is even a Hindu deity called Isa-Nātha, meaning “Lord Isa,” who is often represented as holding or entwined with a serpent. In one representation found in a temple near Nepāl, Isa-Nātha stands with his arms outstretched, a serpent rising behind him, and a halo surrounding his head. The iconographic resemblance to Christ crucified is difficult to ignore, even if the doctrinal meanings diverge.
In fact, Indian and Gnostic traditions share a vision of divine descent as a rescue mission. The world has fallen into ignorance or darkness, and a divine being enters it—disguised, misunderstood, often persecuted—in order to awaken or liberate it. This pattern is echoed not only in Śālivaḥana and Christ, but in Krishna, Buddha, and even in figures like Zoroaster and Prometheus.
The Puranas and other Sanskrit texts refer to this recurring descent of divinity as avatāra, the “crossing down” into the material world. In Christianity, this is mirrored by the term Incarnation, the Word becoming flesh (logos made mortal). Though these are culturally distinct expressions, their underlying mythos is deeply similar.
Furthermore, early Christian missionaries to India—especially those encountering Southern Shaiva and Bhakti traditions—were startled to find concepts like original sin, divine grace, self-offering, and even trinitarian structures reflected in Indian texts. One could, with careful reading, find shadows of baptism, redemption, and resurrection in the cyclic narratives of Hindu cosmology.
Of course, these resemblances do not necessarily prove historical borrowing or transmission. They may instead reflect a deeper, universal archetypal structure—a shared human longing for salvation, transformation, and divine intimacy. But the parallels are close enough to demand notice, and they challenge any simplistic view of either tradition’s originality.
In light of these correspondences, it becomes plausible that ancient India, far from being untouched by Christian influence, may have anticipated or echoed Christian themes within its own mythic framework. Whether this happened through direct transmission (via trade, migration, or missionaries), or through parallel development, remains open to scholarly inquiry.
What cannot be denied is this: India, too, held the image of a divine child, born in obscurity, persecuted by kings, a friend to the lowly, a healer of souls, and a teacher of inner liberation. The serpent, far from being a divider, may be the very link between these ancient visions.
📘 Modernized Version – Section IV
Section IV: The Śaka Era and Calendrical Shifts in Relation to Messianic Time
A striking convergence between Indian and Christian traditions is found in the founding of new eras or calendars associated with the appearance of divine figures. Just as the Christian calendar begins with the birth of Jesus, so too does the Śaka Era (also spelled Shaka), which many Indian traditions trace back to Śālivaḥana, the redeemer figure previously discussed.
The Śaka Era begins around 78 CE, though Indian accounts differ. Some claim this was the year Śālivaḥana ascended the throne after defeating Vikramāditya; others consider this the year of his birth. Some traditions conflate Śālivaḥana with other legendary or semi-historical figures, making precise chronology difficult. Nonetheless, what is consistent is the idea that a new moral and cosmological epoch began with him—a theme clearly mirrored in Christian doctrine about Christ.
A puzzling feature in Indian chronology is the discrepancy between the traditional Yuga calendar (which begins in 3102 BCE with the start of Kali Yuga) and the Christian calendar. Captain Wilford and others note that the year 1 of the Kali Yuga corresponds closely with 1 CE, the year traditionally assigned to Christ’s birth in Western reckoning.
This curious alignment has led some Indian commentators—and later, Christian missionaries—to speculate that Indian sages may have had advance knowledge of the coming of Christ or of a world-transforming divine figure. Wilford speculates that perhaps this was derived from astronomical calculations, or that prophecies passed along trade routes or oral traditions informed this synchrony.
Indeed, early Indian texts speak of an anticipated savior whose coming would occur 3,100 years into the current age, precisely when the calendar places the birth of Śālivaḥana and, in Christian reckoning, Jesus of Nazareth.
Some modern scholars have dismissed this as coincidence, or the result of retroactive calendrical adjustment. Others propose that it reflects the fluid nature of ancient Indian timekeeping, which often blends mythic and empirical time—cosmic ages coexisting with dynastic records and astronomical cycles. Still, the symbolic import remains compelling.
There are even traditions where Śālivaḥana himself speaks of Christ (under the name Isa-Masih) in a Sanskritized prophetic dialogue. He is described as born in a distant western land, of a virgin, teaching monotheism, and opposing idol worship. Whether this passage is apocryphal or interpolated by later hands is debated, but it reveals a deep historical curiosity and openness to integrating foreign revelations into Indian cosmology.
This level of inclusivity is not uncommon in Hindu traditions, where new gods, saints, and even historical figures may be absorbed into the existing theological fabric. Thus, it is not surprising to find Christ-like figures given Hindu forms, or to find Indian sages portrayed in Christian narratives as “wise men from the East.”
The fluidity between historical time and sacred time in both Christian and Hindu contexts creates a space where messianic and avataric figures may coincide, not merely chronologically but archetypally. The emergence of Śālivaḥana—his miraculous birth, serpent-symbolism, spiritual mission, calendar reform, and disappearance—bears all the hallmarks of a messianic myth that resonates deeply with early Christianity.
It may well be that in both traditions, this calendrical rebirth was not simply about measuring time but about marking the arrival of a new human possibility, a turning of the world’s axis toward righteousness, revelation, and redemption.
📘 Modernized Version – Section V
Section V: Linguistic Parallels and Cross-Cultural Transmission
One of the most intriguing dimensions of the apparent convergence between Indian and Christian traditions lies in language—particularly in the names, titles, and concepts used for divine figures.
The name “Isa” or “Isha”, which in Sanskrit means “Lord” or “Master,” appears frequently in Indian texts. In the Vedas and Upanishads, Īśvara refers to the Supreme Lord, often associated with Śiva, Viṣṇu, or a formless divine principle. However, the name Isa (or Īśa) also appears in Indian references to a foreign holy man, one who came from the West, was born of a virgin, and taught a path of devotion and spiritual purity. This figure is sometimes directly called Isa-Masih, which unmistakably echoes the Arabic and Persian term for Jesus Christ (Īsā al-Masīḥ).
Missionaries and orientalist scholars of Wilford’s time took great interest in this resemblance, suggesting that Indian stories of Isa were adaptations or distorted memories of the historical Jesus of Nazareth. In particular, the Bhavishya Purana (a Sanskrit text of prophetic character, whose dating is controversial) contains a passage in which Śālivaḥana encounters Isa-Masih, a man of fair complexion, clothed in white, ascetic in nature, and preaching the truth of one God without idols.
In this narrative, Isa declares himself a “Son of God”, born of a virgin, whose mission is to reveal divine truth to the Mlecchas (foreigners, often equated with Westerners or outsiders). He is welcomed by Śālivaḥana and offered protection, suggesting a symbolic reconciliation between Eastern and Western religious traditions.
Critics may rightly question the authenticity and dating of such texts. The Bhavishya Purana, for instance, is considered by many to be a late medieval text, possibly influenced by Islamic or Christian thought through contact with Persianized or Mughal courts. Still, the inclusion of such material reflects the open-ended nature of Indian mythological writing, which readily assimilates foreign stories into its vast symbolic system.
Another fascinating parallel is the term “Avatar”—from the Sanskrit avatāra, meaning “descent” or “incarnation.” In the Indian context, it refers to the divine taking form in the world for the sake of restoring Dharma (righteousness). The concept is typically associated with Viṣṇu’s ten avatars—from the fish (Matsya) and tortoise (Kūrma) to Krishna and Kalki, the future redeemer.
The Christian doctrine of the Incarnation—God becoming flesh in the person of Jesus—is conceptually aligned, if not theologically identical. In both systems, a divine being enters the world not to punish but to liberate, not to dominate but to redeem.
Furthermore, the Christian phrase “Son of God”, which became a central point of doctrinal debate in the early Church, also finds echo in Indian terminology. Terms like Divya-putra (divine son), or even Nara-Hari (God-man), suggest a fluid understanding of divinity entering the human plane.
Indian narratives often allow multiple interpretations of divine figures—mythic, symbolic, or historical—whereas early Christian theology quickly developed a more rigid orthodoxy. Yet both cultures grappled with similar questions:
- Can the divine truly become human?
- Is the savior one among many, or the only one?
- What is the nature of revelation, and is it ongoing?
Captain Wilford speculates that some of the terminology found in Indian scriptures may have originated from early Christian influence, perhaps through trade routes, missionaries, or indirect cultural contact via Persia, Arabia, or even Alexandria. Others argue the opposite: that Christian terms were shaped by Eastern ideas, especially through Gnostic, Persian, or Buddhist lenses.
In any case, the overlapping vocabulary—Isa, Masih, avatāra, mleccha-dharma (religion of foreigners), and even logos-like ideas of divine manifestation—demands a broader view of religious history, one not bound by rigid East/West dichotomies.
Ultimately, whether these connections are direct transmissions, archetypal echoes, or poetic convergences, they speak to a shared human imagination: one which intuits the possibility of divine intervention, transformative figures, and a universe that bends toward spiritual meaning.
📘 Modernized Version – Section VI
Section VI: The Obscuration and Decline of Christ-like Traditions in India
While earlier sections suggest the existence of a Christ-like figure or a parallel tradition in ancient Indian religious consciousness, this section addresses the sobering question: Why did these teachings not take root and flourish?
Wilford acknowledges that if such a figure as Isa-Masih truly appeared in India or if early Christianity reached Indian shores, its presence was not preserved in any continuous or institutionalized form. Instead, it appears to have been assimilated, transformed, or forgotten—absorbed into the vast matrix of Hindu and Buddhist mythology, or even outright discarded in later ages.
One explanation offered is the tendency of Indian religious culture to absorb foreign influences by mythologizing them. Rather than creating rival institutions, Hindu traditions would often subsumate outside figures into preexisting cosmologies. This meant that a foreign sage like Isa could be revered as a rishi or even an avatar, but his teachings would be filtered through the Vedic or Puranic lens.
Moreover, Wilford notes the lack of evangelical ambition in traditional Indian religion. Unlike Christianity or Islam, Hindu and Buddhist traditions—especially in their classical forms—were not focused on proselytism. This led to a spiritual environment that was syncretic, but not centrally organized. As a result, localized traditions could arise and disappear without forming lasting sects or formal canons.
Another factor was the rise of sectarian orthodoxy. In time, both Brahmanical Hinduism and Islamic authorities became less tolerant of heterodox teachings. Particularly during the medieval period, texts that deviated from accepted doctrine—whether Vedic, Shaivite, or Islamic—were either neglected, destroyed, or reclassified as heretical. It’s plausible that earlier stories of Isa or parallels to Christian teachings were gradually edited out or reinterpreted to align with dominant theological frameworks.
Wilford also speculates that early Christian missions, possibly established by Thomas the Apostle, Syrian Christians, or Nestorian groups, may have existed in India—particularly in the southwest (Kerala). But over centuries, these communities were marginalized or absorbed into local castes, with their distinct teachings diluted. Only the St. Thomas Christians remained as a visible, though relatively isolated, presence.
Adding to this disappearance was the linguistic erosion of key texts. Many works that might have preserved Christ-like stories were composed in dialects or Sanskritized hybrids no longer accessible to common people. The oral transmission system, while vibrant, was highly fragile—reliant on memory, recitation, and social stability. When kingdoms fell, patronage waned, or wars displaced populations, whole traditions could vanish within a generation.
Still, Wilford argues that traces of this forgotten transmission endure—in iconography, phrases, calendar systems, and folk tales that contain surprising echoes of Christian motifs.
What is perhaps most significant is the historical attitude toward time and transmission in Indian culture. Whereas Western religious traditions often emphasize preserving textual integrity and doctrinal consistency, Indian traditions prioritize experiential continuity and symbolic resonance. Thus, a teaching might survive not as a dogma, but as a gesture, a mythic episode, or a visual form—waiting to be reinterpreted by each new age.
Wilford concludes that the decline of Christian influence in India is not proof of its absence but perhaps a reflection of its transformation. Like a river absorbed by sand, the message may still flow underground, unseen, yet subtly shaping the soil of Indian spirituality.
📘 Modernized Version – Section VII
Section VII: Toward a Shared Revelation?
In closing his inquiry, Captain Wilford does not claim to have offered definitive proof that Christianity originated in India, or that Christ himself was an Indian figure. He is cautious—perhaps wisely so—not to make overly bold assertions. Instead, what he presents is something more subtle and, in many ways, more profound: a web of symbolic, linguistic, doctrinal, and historical correspondences that invite us to reconsider the strict boundaries between East and West.
He asks: Could it be that the truths revealed through Christ were not confined to Palestine alone? Might these same truths—about divine descent, salvation, grace, and spiritual awakening—have manifested independently or anticipatorily in Indian soil, in the form of Isa, Śālivaḥana, or other avataric figures?
Wilford proposes that truth may be universal, though clothed in different languages and symbols. The Indian avatāra and the Christian incarnation may be two forms of the same impulse—the Divine entering time to redeem the fallen, to restore wholeness, and to call humanity back to its spiritual origin.
If this is so, then the decline of overt Christianity in India should not be viewed solely as a failure, nor should it suggest that Christ was rejected. Rather, it may indicate that his essence was already known, under other names, and was reabsorbed into the Indian spiritual landscape, like rain falling into an already full river.
Wilford goes on to suggest that the apparent loss of Isa-Masih from the Indian tradition may simply reflect a change in religious language, not a denial of spiritual reality. The Divine does not insist on one form or one scripture. Revelation, he hints, may be perennial, and cultures may respond in their own time and mode.
He sees this not as syncretism in a superficial sense, but as an invitation to a new kind of theological humility—one that sees the Light in many lamps, the truth behind many myths, and the Christ-principle as something far deeper than institutional Christianity often admits.
He ends with a gentle admonition to scholars and missionaries alike: Look not only at names and doctrines, but at the fruits of the Spirit. Where there is compassion, self-sacrifice, wisdom, and the yearning for liberation, there too is the imprint of the Divine—whether that figure is called Jesus, Krishna, Śālivaḥana, or Isa-Masih.
Thus concludes Wilford’s unique, speculative, and deeply earnest attempt to bridge East and West—not by force or conversion, but by seeing through appearances to a possible shared Source.
📚 Source Document Description for Citation
Title of Original Work:
“The Origin and Decline of the Christian Religion in India”
by Captain F. W. Wilford
Publication Context:
This essay was originally published in Asiatic Researches, Volume X, 1811, edited by the Asiatic Society of Bengal. The essay appears in pages 40–141 of that volume. The Asiatic Researches series was a leading scholarly journal of its time, dedicated to the study of the languages, histories, and cultures of the Indian subcontinent, founded under the guidance of Sir William Jones and the early Orientalists.
Author Background:
Captain Francis Wilford (c. 1761–1822) was a British orientalist and member of the Asiatic Society of Bengal. He was known for his speculative comparisons between Hindu mythology and Western religious traditions, especially Christianity. Though his work was later criticized for relying on questionable sources and for his sometimes overzealous syncretism, Wilford played an influential role in early comparative religion and Indology.
Physical Source:
- Source: Asiatic Researches, Vol. X
- Publisher: Printed for the Asiatic Society by Thomas Hubbard, Calcutta, 1811
- Location in Volume: pp. 40–141
- Archive Source: Digitally scanned and reproduced in PDF format, including original typeset and pagination
- Access: Private scanned archival copy titled “Vol Ten – Origin Decline Christianity India_40-141.pdf”
Use in Modern Edition:
The present modernized edition is based on the complete PDF facsimile of the original essay by Wilford, preserving section structure and content while updating archaic language for clarity and educational use. All efforts have been made to maintain fidelity to Wilford’s intent while contextualizing his views for contemporary readers.