Even if I accepted that Jesus - like almost every other prophet

Christopher Hitchens, the fierce polemicist and defender of reason, once declared: “Even if I accepted that Jesus—like almost every other prophet on record—was born of a virgin, I cannot think that this proves the divinity of his father or the truth of his teachings. The same would be true if I accepted that he had been resurrected.” These words, provocative and unflinching, cut to the heart of his philosophy: that extraordinary claims, even if granted as true, do not necessarily confirm divine authority or absolute truth. In them, Hitchens reminds us that faith and evidence are not always bound together, and that belief in miracles does not prove the validity of an entire doctrine.

The origin of this saying lies in Hitchens’ lifelong campaign against dogma and blind belief. In his book God Is Not Great and countless debates, he challenged the assumption that miraculous events were enough to validate religious teachings. To him, the story of the virgin birth or the resurrection were no more convincing than similar legends attached to other prophets, sages, and mythic figures. He argued that such stories, while moving or symbolic, do not in themselves establish moral authority or divine truth. Thus his words were not merely rejection, but a challenge to look deeper than miracle and seek reason, consistency, and ethics as the true measure of teaching.

History offers striking parallels to his argument. Many cultures and religions have proclaimed miraculous origins for their heroes. The Buddha’s birth was surrounded by wondrous signs. Alexander the Great was said to be the son of a god. Even Roman emperors were wrapped in legends of divine parentage. Yet the presence of miracles in these stories has not compelled humanity to embrace them all as equally true. Hitchens’ point is clear: miracle alone is not proof. What endures is not the spectacle, but the substance of a teaching.

Consider also the Age of Enlightenment, when philosophers like David Hume argued that testimony of miracles is never as strong as the laws of nature themselves. Hume taught that men often exaggerate wonders out of zeal or ignorance, and that wisdom demands skepticism. Hitchens, echoing this tradition, took the stance further: even if one accepted the miracle as fact, it still does not compel belief in the greater claim. A resurrection might astonish, but does it prove divinity? A virgin birth might inspire awe, but does it validate every doctrine? For him, the answer was no.

Yet his words are not only a rejection of belief—they are a call to courage. For too often humanity has surrendered reason at the altar of wonder. When people cease to question, they fall into the chains of authority, manipulated by those who claim divine sanction. Hitchens warns that true freedom lies in resisting the temptation to equate the miraculous with the true. Truth must be tested not by marvel, but by reason, justice, and the fruits of a teaching in the lives of men.

The lesson is powerful: do not surrender your judgment to spectacle, however dazzling. A teaching must stand on its own merit—its consistency, its morality, its power to uplift humanity—regardless of the wonders claimed in its name. Whether in religion, politics, or daily life, miracles and myths must not distract us from the harder work of discernment. Truth is not proven by the extraordinary, but by the enduring.

Practically, this means cultivating a spirit of inquiry. When faced with claims of power, ask: does this teaching stand when stripped of its marvels? Does it lead to justice, compassion, and wisdom? Or does it lean only upon the fascination of mystery? Respect symbols, but do not confuse them with substance. Admire myth, but do not mistake it for proof. In this way, you guard your freedom and live as one loyal not to illusion, but to truth.

Thus Hitchens’ words echo like a stern but liberating counsel: miracles, even if true, do not themselves prove divinity or the truth of teachings. The proof of any doctrine lies not in wonders, but in wisdom; not in spectacle, but in substance. Let us then live with eyes clear and reason firm, so that our faith, whatever it may be, is chosen not by fear of marvels, but by love of truth.