The Influence of Buddhism on Primitive Christianity — A Closer Reading

Asoka's Missionary Edicts as Historical Anchor

Lillie grounds his argument in the edicts of the Mauryan emperor Asoka (c. 268–232 BCE), which he treats as reliable historical records. He quotes the edict that commands subjects to “follow the doctrine” of Asoka and names Hellenistic rulers—Antiochus, Ptolemy, “Gongakenos,” and Megas of Cyrene—as recipients of Buddhist missions. This, Lillie asserts, “plainly proves that his missionaries had reached Egypt and Greece.” The claim is central to his thesis: if Buddhist envoys arrived in the Mediterranean by the third century BCE, then later religious developments there could have been influenced by Buddhist ideas.

Lillie does not dwell on the edicts' content beyond this geopolitical reach. He uses them as a chronological and geographical foundation, implying that the presence of Buddhist missionaries in the Hellenistic world is a matter of historical record, not speculation. This allows him to posit a direct line of transmission from Indian Buddhism to the mystery cults of the Near East and, ultimately, to early Christianity.

The Dual Zoroaster and the Bloodless Altar

Lillie contrasts two Zoroasters: an earlier figure who prescribed “a thousand blows with the horse goad” for disposing of a dead dog and demanded “a hundred horses, a thousand cows, ten thousand small cattle” on the altar, and a later one who “proclaimed a bloodless altar” and sought to tear the earlier network of rites “to shreds.” Lillie interprets this second Zoroaster as a Buddhist-influenced reformer, arguing that “the Buddhist Wanderers had by this time invaded Persia, and had fastened their doctrines upon the chief local prophet.”

This dualism is a structural device: Lillie uses it to show how Buddhist principles—non-violence, asceticism, rejection of animal sacrifice—could be absorbed into existing religious frameworks. The “bloodless altar” becomes a key motif linking Buddhism, Mithraism, and Christianity. Lillie does not claim that Zoroastrianism itself was transformed, but that a specific reform movement within it borrowed from Buddhist practice.

Mithraic Rites as Buddhist Echoes

Lillie draws heavily on Tertullian's descriptions of Mithraic initiation to argue that the cult borrowed from Buddhism. He quotes Tertullian's claim that Mithras “baptises some,” “promises the putting away of sins by a laver,” “celebrates also the oblation of bread,” and “introduces an image of the resurrection.” In another passage, Tertullian describes a ritual where a sword is presented to the initiate and a crown placed on his head, which the initiate must cast off, saying “Mithras is his crown.”

Lillie asserts that this sword-and-crown episode is “plainly based on the menacing sword of Mâra in the 'Lalita Vistara' and the crown that he offered Buddha.” He also sees in Mithraic “virgins and ascetics” a parallel to Buddhist monasticism. The argument is cumulative: Lillie lists these parallels not as isolated coincidences but as evidence of a systematic borrowing. He treats Mithraism as a middle term in a chain of transmission from Buddhism to Christianity.

Freemasonry and the Menacing Sword

Lillie extends his comparative method to modern Freemasonry, which he claims “veiled in the Indian life of Buddha.” He notes that in Masonic lore, Hiram Abiff makes three efforts to escape three assassins, which Lillie interprets as allegories for Old Age, Disease, and Death—the same three obstacles that Buddha sought to overcome. He writes that Buddha “tried to escape” these at the east of the temple, mirroring Hiram's flight.

This section is the most speculative in the excerpts. Lillie does not provide a direct textual link between Buddhist scriptures and Masonic rituals; instead, he posits a hidden tradition preserved through Mithraic initiations. The argument relies on symbolic resemblance rather than historical documentation. Readers should note that Lillie's evidence here is thinner, and his claims about Freemasonry are not supported by the primary sources he cites for earlier parallels.

Lillie's method is comparative and cumulative: he assembles parallels from disparate sources—Asokan edicts, Avestan laws, Tertullian's polemics, and Buddhist narratives—to build a case for influence. Readers should weigh his use of Tertullian, who wrote to attack pagan rites, and consider whether the similarities he identifies might arise from independent development or common human symbolism. The excerpts offer a focused argument, but the full book likely expands on these themes with additional evidence from liturgy and church history.

There is a curious comfort in watching two old books lean upon each other. Lillie's study of Buddhist echoes in early Christianity speaks of a faith carried across deserts, reshaped by distant hands. It puts me in mind of True Christianity A Treatise on Sincere Repentence, True Faith, the Holy Walk of the True Christian, Etc. — Background and Themes, where repentance, too, arrives as a quiet, unearned inheritance. Both seem to whisper that belief is always a pilgrimage from elsewhere.