Miracles as Monopoly: Why the West Sells Its Wonders and Scorns the East
Miracles are not just stories of wonder; they are weapons of power. In the Abrahamic world—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—miracles are treated as history, proof, and ultimatum. Moses parts the Red Sea and feeds his people with manna; Jesus heals the blind, multiplies loaves, and rises from the dead; Muhammad ascends to heaven and splits the moon. These are not told as myths but as contracts: believe, or you are outside the fold. A miracle is never just awe; it is a claim of monopoly.
In India, China, and the wider East, miracles abound too, but they play a different role. Krishna lifts Govardhana Hill on his finger, multiplies himself to dance with every gopī, and reveals the entire universe in his mouth. Shiva drinks poison to save creation. The Buddha flies, walks on water, multiplies his body, descends from heaven on a triple staircase. Daoist sages ride dragons or live for centuries. Yet none of these miracles are monopolies. They are allegories, theater, teaching devices, cultural play. You are free to read them as devotion, as poetry, or as philosophy. No Hindu is expelled for doubting Krishna’s cosmic dance; no Buddhist is punished for treating the Buddha’s miracles as myth.
And yet, it is the Abrahamic miracles that dominate the globe. Christmas—the virgin birth of Jesus—dictates the global retail calendar. Easter—the resurrection—divides time into before and after Christ. Ramadan—the Qur’an as miracle—shapes entire nations’ rhythms. Passover—the Exodus—anchors Jewish identity across continents. These miracles have become civilizational markers, broadcast through holidays, commerce, and law. By contrast, Diwali is exoticized as a “festival of lights,” Holi reduced to Instagram spectacle, Vesak ignored in the global press. One set of miracles dictates world culture; the other is relegated to folklore.
The contradiction is glaring. The West solemnly teaches children that Moses split the sea, Jesus rose from the dead, Muhammad rode to heaven—while dismissing Rama’s bridge to Lanka, Krishna’s cosmic form, or the Buddha’s miracles as fairy tales. Why? Not because one set is more plausible. Walking on water is no more credible than flying through the sky. A talking donkey in the Bible is no less fantastic than Hanuman leaping to Lanka. The difference lies in marketing. Abrahamic faiths turned miracles into propaganda, proof of exclusive salvation, while Eastern traditions left them open as myth and metaphor.
This exclusivity gave Abrahamic miracles enormous power. To deny them was not harmless skepticism; it was heresy, blasphemy, apostasy. The miracle became inseparable from law. The Exodus justified covenant, the Resurrection justified salvation, the Qur’an justified submission. Law without miracle was tyranny; miracle without law was spectacle. Together, they created authority that conquered continents. By contrast, Hindu and Buddhist miracles, detached from law, inspired devotion but never enforced obedience. They did not conquer empires; they survived them.
That is why the Abrahamic world both celebrates its own miracles and ridicules others. To admit that Krishna’s lifting of Govardhana or the Buddha’s descent from heaven are equally valid would collapse the monopoly. If all miracles are true, then none are exclusive. So rivals must be mocked as myth, even while one’s own is preached as fact. This double standard was embedded in colonialism and conquest. Missionaries in India dismissed Hindu epics as folklore while demanding belief in resurrection. Muslim rulers derided Buddhist relics as superstition while enforcing Qur’anic miracles. Western textbooks call the Mahābhārata “mythology” and the Bible “history.” It is not consistency; it is supremacy.
And yet the monopoly is cracking. In the West, belief in literal miracles is declining, but Christmas still dominates because it has been commercialized into the largest holiday in human history. Easter without resurrection is still spring marketing. Ramadan, enforced by states, still reshapes economies. The miracles remain powerful because they were branded as civilization itself. By contrast, Eastern miracles, never monopolized, now flourish in subtler ways. Yoga, meditation, and mindfulness spread globally without demanding belief in supernatural feats. The East’s openness, once a weakness in the age of empire, is now a strength in the age of science.
The lesson is stark. Miracles are not about truth but about what civilizations do with them. The Abrahamic world turned miracle into monopoly, propaganda, and global marketing. The East left miracle as allegory, art, and philosophy. One conquered the globe but at the price of coercion; the other inspired cultures but lost the world stage. And the contradiction remains: Abrahamic miracles are celebrated, legislated, and marketed, while Eastern miracles are dismissed as myth. The hypocrisy is as clear as it is deliberate.
Perhaps the greatest irony is this: the West that once ridiculed Hindu and Buddhist miracles now chants mantras, practices yoga, and seeks Buddhist wisdom without any need for miracle at all. Meanwhile, Christmas and Easter remain as consumer festivals, miracles hollowed out but still profitable. The monopoly is breaking. And in that collapse, the East’s refusal to monopolize may prove to be the more enduring miracle.
Exodus 14:21–22; Exodus 16:4–35; Exodus 17:1–7.
Matthew 14:22–33; John 11:1–44; Matthew 28.
Qur’an 17:1; Qur’an 54:1–2; Sahih al-Bukhari 4:56:779.
Bhagavata Purāṇa 10.25; Bhagavad Gītā 11.
Dīgha Nikāya 11 (Kevaddha Sutta); Vinaya Piṭaka I.20.
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