Karma, Justice, and the Preconceived Notion of a Balanced Universe

Who’s out there balancing the universe’s checkbook?

When I can sense there’s a bad omen on the horizon, peeking over the ridge — wanting, waiting, salivation dripping from its knife-point teeth — I always take a moment to close my eyes and pray one thing: “You owe me.”

Maybe you think that’s presumptuous: to imply god, the universe, anything owes me something. Why should he, she, they, or it? Without going too much into my personal life, I can tell you I feel quite justified in making the claim. Still, is there any evidence to support that retribution or reparation from the world is in any way possible? And where does this burning desire to “get even” come from, anyway?

The concept I’m alluding to goes by many different names — but for now, let’s call it “karma.” The word karma first originated in a Hindu text dating back to roughly 1500 BC. Originally, the term was used to talk about what would happen to your transient soul, once you were reincarnated in your next life. Were you more overall good? Or more overall bad? Would you be climbing up the totem pole or being knocked down the caste system? But over time, this concept began to grow and evolve. Now, when people use the word karma, they tend to mean that the good or bad you do now will affect you later — but not in a new life. No, in this one. Sooner or later, it’ll come back to bite you — or so it’s thought.

But is there anything to support this supposition? Not especially. In its original Hindu understanding, karma is said to translate to something along these lines: “Similar actions lead to similar results.” I don’t find this to be incorrect on its face; if you go around smiling at everyone, chances are people are going to smile back at you. But there’s no guarantees, nor cold, hard facts to support this theory.

While the concept of karma has become rather mainstream over time, we, as Americans, still live in a society largely ruled by Christian ideology, which does not subscribe to this Eastern way of thought. But what do Christians believe instead? Well, they believe in justice. In a great reckoning that’ll come for us all in the end, that shall even the playing field —or dish out revenge, so to speak. You were bad in this life? You’ll go to Hell. You didn’t believe in Jesus before he rode down on the clouds for the Second Coming? You’re going to Hell. But if you were good — if you believed hard and long enough — you’ll go to Heaven instead. It’s the ultimate revenge fantasy in some ways. Suffer now, get rewarded later. Sin now, regret it forever. It’s playing the long game, but there’s said to be a great cosmic delayed gratification awaiting those who partake.

Many small elements of our everyday society mirror this line of thought. Wanna get presents from Santa Claus? You’ll have to be good all year. Want to drink that chocolate milkshake? Well, you gotta earn it with a jog first. Want to live in your dream house, have your dream car, or get your dream job? You’ll have to wait — and work, and scrounge, and scrape, and suffer. But it’ll all be worth it in the end, right?

Even our justice system works under this supposition. Commit a crime? Go to jail. Sacrifice a certain amount of your (presumably) singular life until the great, gaping beast that is the industrial prison complex is satisfied. And what do you get at the end, in exchange? Freedom. Quid pro quo: You do this; we give you that. No returns, refunds, or exchanges. And if we happen to get it wrong? Well… do you accept Visa?

And who’s justice is being served here, exactly? Who is benefitting, and who is getting the short end of the stick? Who’s in the back weighing the price of a soul, of potential, of relations here on earth? Mere mortals like us can’t hope to have access to that kind of information. How, then, can we condemn each other with relative calm, confidence, or conviction? As we place our thumb on the scales of another, aren’t we, too, counterbalancing it with a weight on our own conscience? Who’s accounting for that? Who’s out there balancing the universe’s checkbook?

Well, god, you may think. Or nature. Or whomever. But how can we trust them to be just — or rather, to have the same standards of justice that we ascribe to? And when? And from whom? A man living in ancient Mesopotamia is bound to live by a different set of rules than a man living in twenty-first century New York. Stealing in Mesopotamia was punishable by a lobbing off of the hand; now, it’s just a thousand dollar fine. Was the punishment more befitting of the crime then? Or now?

I think a lot about the religions class I took (all too briefly) in college. We opened with Zoroastrianism, which was a religion that, up until that point, I had never even heard of. It’s one of the oldest monotheistic belief systems in the world — older than Judaism, Christianity, or Islam — and it’s defined by one thing, above all: a constant, cosmic battle between good and evil.

You may think you understand this concept inside and out, but you don’t. At least, you don’t understand it in the Zoroastrian way. Because Zoroastrians had one particular distinction that turned this entire notion on its head: God cannot be all-powerful. Why? Because if god was all-powerful — more powerful than, say, Satan — and did nothing to stop the prevalence of evil in this world, he, too, would be evil. In this way, Zoroastrians believe good and evil are equal forces, the dichotomy of which causes the great, eternal strife of the cosmos: this never-ending struggle between two celestial entities over the very soul of the universe.

I like that interpretation, personally. That someone is apparently out there, fighting for me day in and day out, well… What more could you ask for? And if I happen to try just as hard — try to be a kind person, a caring friend, a good family member — isn’t it possible I might tip the scales of karmic justice over to my side? After all, the Zoroastrians never said fighting against evil was a one-on-one thing. Why not turn it into a team sport?

There’s no evidence of karma like there’s no evidence of a lot of things in this world — but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist or doesn’t have influence on our day-to-day lives. I don’t see gravity, but I know with absolute certainty that if I place my water bottle on my desk, it won’t spontaneously spring up into the air the second I stop looking. And hey, maybe someday that could change, but today, it’s my reality. It’s all of our realities. It influences our plans, our decisions, and our trajectories, in life.

So believe what you want to believe — as long as it helps you, rather than harms you. Believe in justice; believe in forces beyond your control. We’ll never know if we were right or wrong, so what’s there to lose?

And in the end, isn’t that a form of balance too?