Checking The Heavenly Bank Account of Karma'cognitive Metaphors For Karma in Western Perception and Early Theravāda Buddhism

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Checking the heavenly ‘bank account of karma’: cognitive metaphors for

karma in Western perception and early Theravāda Buddhism
Article in Religion · October 2013

DOI: 10.1080/0048721X.2013.765630
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Religion, 2013
http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/0048721X.2013.765630
Checking the heavenly ‘bank account of karma’:

cognitive metaphors for karma in Western perception
and early Theravāda Buddhism
Jens Schlieter*
Institute for the Science of Religion & Center for Global Studies, University of Berne, Vereinsweg
Downloaded by [Universitätsbibliothek Bern] at 05:44 20 March 2013
23, 3012 Bern, Switzerland
ABSTRACT To visualize the accumulation of good and bad karma in terms of

credit or debt in a bank account is a common feature in works on Buddhism
and other Indian traditions. Applying conceptual metaphor theory, this article
tracks the metaphorical framework of understanding karma as a kind of ‘hea-
venly bank account’ back to its roots in early European scholarship. Based on
a comparison with metaphors for karma to be found in Pāli texts of the Thera-
vāda tradition, namely, the analogies of ripening, inheritance, and the dark/
bright dichotomy, this article argues that the ‘bank-account’ imagery differs in
significant – if subtle – respects from these emic metaphors, displaying certain
Judeo-Christian preconceptions of moral bookkeeping, sin, and salvation.
KEY WORDS karma; Buddhism; religions; ‘karma-account’ metaphor; Euro-
pean Buddhology; conceptual metaphor theory; works-righteousness
The Tathāgata approached a ferry-man to take him to the other side.

He said: ‘Gautama, would you pay me the ferry-money’.
‘I do not have, friend, the ferry-money’, the Tathāgata said,
and went by way through the air to the other shore.
– Lalitavistara1
As soon as a coin in the coffer rings
the soul from purgatory springs.
– Attributed to the Dominican Preacher Johann Tetzel (1465–1519)
Introduction
A common feature of Western works on Buddhism – and likewise on the Jain2 and
Hindu traditions3 – is to illustrate the accumulation of karma with the metaphor of
a bank balance in which unwholesome deeds constitute debit and wholesome
*Email: jens.schlieter@relwi.unibe.ch
1
Lalitavistara, 26th chapter (Vaidya 1958: 297; GRETIL-ed.). Unless stated otherwise, translations from
Pāli and Sanskrit are my own. Remarkably, immediately after this episode, King Bimbisāra declared a
tax exemption for ascetics. Cf. for this episode Avāriya Jātaka (no. 376), summary in Malalasekera
1937–38, vol. I: 196–197.
2
Cf. Flügel 2003. Due to restricted space, I will not discuss (scholars of) the Jain or Hindu traditions here.
3
See, for instance, O’Flaherty 1980: 33.
© 2013 Taylor & Francis

2 J. Schlieter
deeds credit. Sometimes, the entire metaphorical system of a karmic ‘bank account’
is applied; in other cases, it may only be alluded to – as, e.g., in the cases of ‘hea-
venly money,’ or accumulated spiritual ‘capital.’
The early texts, however, do not speak of any amalgamation of ‘bad’ (Sanskrit/
Pāli pāpa) and ‘meritorious’ (Skt. puṇ ya, P. puñña) karma, and, consequentially, no
‘balancing.’ In short, ‘negative’ and ‘positive’ karma qualities do not figure as the
‘same currency’ (compare Krishan 1991: 121 f. [≈Krishan 1997: 523 f.]).
Given the striking success of the ‘karma-account’ metaphor in the more recent
discourse of both Buddhists and scholars of Buddhism (not to speak of popular
culture such as the use of ‘karma accounts’ in computer games), several questions
pertaining to this significant metaphor usage have so far been left aside. First, one
may ask from a historical perspective whether the early Indian sources did indeed
abstain completely from the use of the ‘bank-account’ metaphor or not. If already
back then or later on, it might be the case that certain emic descriptions of ‘merit
currency’ have prepared the ground for the Western invention of this metaphor.
Second, one may question the Western way to interpret the Buddhist concept of
karma: Why did – as many of them still do – Western scholars use ‘bank-account’
metaphors? What was their initial intention, and what are the benefits of this
metaphor?
Finally, the questions raised here in regard to the ‘karma-account’ metaphor
(which is sometimes broadened to an allegory or comprehensive metaphorical
system), can – as I will try to show – be answered sufficiently by making use of con-
ceptual metaphor theories. The latter provide insights into the conceptual schemes
– of both early Buddhists and modern scholars of Buddhism – at work by applying
certain pecuniary and economic metaphors in the realm of ethical and soteriologi-
cal discourse. Additionally, it may allow us to address the question as to why this
metaphor – and not others, such as the metaphor of ‘seeds and fruits’ – has proven
to be so overwhelmingly successful.
European constructions of the cosmic ‘karma account’

European interpreters frequently make use of metaphors related to financial
account-management in order to make sense of the theory of karma and retribu-
tion. They visualize the ‘sum’ of karma as some kind of heavenly ‘merit account.’
To provide some examples from Western scholarship: Richard Gombrich expressed
the view that a passage in a Jātaka story (J-A IV.15–22) comes ‘very close to the idea
of a fund of merit, like a bank account, to be drawn at will’ (Gombrich 1971: 216).4
In her study of the bodhisattva ideal in early Mahāyāna sūtras, Jan Nattier
explained the practice of ‘transformation of merit’ which ‘urges the lay practitioner
not simply to let nature take its course, but to intervene directly into the karmic
process. Specifically, he is instructed to perform the mental act of transferring his
merit from (as it were) one karmic bank account to another, so that it will contribute
not to his rebirth in heaven […], but to his future attainment of Buddhahood’
(Nattier 2003: 114). And the well-known scholar of Buddhist ethics, Damien
Keown, stated: ‘Karma can be either good or bad. Buddhists speak of good
karma as “merit” (puṇ ya; Pāli, puñña), and much effort is expended in acquiring
4
Cf. however, Gombrich’s reply to Krishan 1991 in Gombrich 1992.
Religion 3
it (its opposite, bad karma, is known as pāpa). Some Buddhists picture merit as a
kind of spiritual capital – like money in a bank account – whereby credit is built
up as the deposit on a heavenly rebirth’ (Keown 2005: 7 f.). Keown is, indeed,
correct in stating that the use of the ‘karma-bank’ metaphor is observable in Bud-
dhist texts, too – although, as I will argue below, not in the classical sources. Never-
theless, contemporary Buddhists seem to be well aware, as most Buddhologists,
that the ‘bank-account’ imagery is absent in the early sources. Sometimes, the irre-
concilable metaphors for karma are placed side by side,5 as in Swarna Wickremer-
atne’s account: ‘Buddhists have a spiritual bank account. Making merit, or kusala
karma is like a deposit, and doing akusala kamma is like making withdrawals. In
Sunday school the monks explained karma to us this way: “According to the
seed that’s sown, so is the fruit you will reap there; doer of good will gather
good; doer of evil, evil reaps; sown is the seed, and thou shalt taste the fruit
thereof”’ (Wickremeratne 2006: 115 [with a hidden quotation of S I. 227; cf. Rhys
Davids et al. 1917, vol. I: 293]). Taking current Theravāda Buddhist practices of
‘merit-making’ (and, especially, via donation of money) as a point of departure,
one could argue that Western scholars might have adapted the bank-account meta-
phor through a conflation of anthropological field studies on current Buddhist
practices of ‘merit-making’ with modern emic descriptions of precisely these prac-
tices.6 Although it has to be stated that certain Buddhist traditions have brought
forth the feature of ‘karmic debts’ in their later development – Nāgārjuna’s Mūla-
madhyamakakārikā (XVII. 15, see below) seems to be the first instance – we should
not stop our investigation here, given the impact of the ‘full’ bank-account meta-
phor in scholarly and popular discourse on the notion of karma.7
In order to contextualize the specific European usage of this metaphor in reli-
gious discourse, I will turn to some important points in its history. As early as
1853, the Wesleyan Methodist missionary Robert Spence Hardy (1803–68)
brought a Chinese work into debate, ‘a work called “Merits and Demerits Exam-
ined,” in which a man is directed to keep a debtor and creditor account with
himself of the acts of each day; and at the end of the year he winds it up. If the
balance is in his favour, it is carried on to the account of next year; but if against
him, something extra must be done to make up the deficiency. – Davis’s Chinese’
(Hardy 1853: 507).8
5
Rita Langer provides the following quotation: ‘One monk illustrated this with a simile: the dying
thought is like an air ticket to a nice place, but without money (i.e., sufficiently good kamma) one
will not be able to stay there for very long’ (Langer 2007: 16).
6
I am indebted to an unknown reviewer for directing me to this plausible interpretation.
7
Historian Arnold Toynbee, in his introduction to the published dialogues with Daisaku Ikeda, states: ‘In
spite of the difference between the authors’ religious and cultural backgrounds, a remarkable degree of
agreement in their outlooks and aims has been brought to light in their dialogue. Their agreement is far-
reaching […]. They […] agree in believing in the reality of karma, a Sanskrit word […] that, in the voca-
bulary of Buddhism, has acquired the special meaning of an ethical “bank-account” in which the balance
is constantly being changed by fresh credit or fresh debit entries during a human being’s psychosomatic
life on earth. The balance of a human being’s karma, at any particular moment, is determined by the plus
or minus sum of the previous credit or debit entries; but the karma-bearer can, and will, change the
balance, for better or for worse, by his further acts. In fact, he makes his karma for himself and is
thus, at least partially, a free agent’ (Toynbee and Ikeda 2007: xi).
8
Hardy is more or less literally quoting from Davis’ The Chinese (1840). The latter concludes his summary
of these bookkeeping practices – which, to him, are not peculiarly Buddhist, ‘but prevail universally
among the Chinese’ – with the words: ‘This method of keeping a score with heaven is as foolish and
4 J. Schlieter
Even though the practice of moral bookkeeping, loosely described as a ‘current

account,’ can be traced in Daoist-Confucian Chinese morality books such as the
Ledger of Merits and Demerits (Gonguoge; 12th century),9 the depiction of this practice
is met with harsh Protestant criticism (cf. Hardy 1853: 507–508). According to Ernst
[Ernest] Johann Eitel (1838–1908),10 a German Protestant missionary to China, the
‘spirit of calculating selfishness’ pervades the whole system of Buddhist ethics,
because the effort of a final calculation of merits and demerits is nothing less
than ‘fatalism,’ ‘barren Nihilism,’ and ‘cold Atheism’ (cf. Eitel 1871 [3rd ed.
1884]: 96 f.) which runs counter to both man’s atonement and God’s grace. The
idea of accounting ‘karmic debts,’ however, fits well to the religious notion of pri-
mordial or ‘existential debts’ (cf. Graeber 2011: 82 ff.): the sinful human nature
which burdens man with an infinite debt to God. This critique is obviously
linked to arguments exchanged in the European discourse on the righteousness
of works and the legitimacy of selling indulgences.

Tentatively, we may consider that the European critique of the ‘calculating spirit’
of the Buddhist conception of karma emerged in the 1850s.11 At that time, European
scholars were able – in mental and material regard – to conflate (largely non-
Buddhist) Chinese ‘merit books’ with pre-ethnological field-observations in Sri
Lanka, Burma, and elsewhere. Hardy, although aware of the metaphors of
‘seeds’ and ‘fruits’ and of general ‘inheritance,’ which were all used in early
Buddhist texts for karmic merit,12 still criticized ‘Buddhism’ – i.e., the tradition
he could encounter in Sri Lanka – as ‘a system of selfishness’: ‘The principle set
forth in the vicarious endurances of the Bódhisat is forgotten. It is a vast scheme
of profits and losses, reduced to regular order. The acquirement of merit by the
dangerous a system of morality, as that of penances and indulgences in the Roman church’ (Davis 1840,
vol. II: 87).
9
‘As for the way of practice, one should always have […] a notebook ready by the head of the bed in the
bedroom. First one should write down the month, then write down the day of the month. Under each
day, make two columns for merits (kung) and demerits (kuo). Just before one retires for the night, one
should write down the good and bad things one has done during the day. Consult the Ledger for the
points of each deed. If one has done good acts, record them in the merit column. If one has done bad
things, record them in the demerit column. […] At the end of each month count the total of merits
and demerits. Compare the two. Either subtract the number of demerits from the number of merits or
use the number of merits to cancel out the number of demerits. After subtraction or cancellation, the
number of merits or demerits remaining will be clear’ (The Ledger of Merits and Demerits, quoted in Yü
1981: 120–121; cf. Robson 2012: 84–85).
10
With more or less identical words, Eitel refers in 1871 again to the Chinese Ledger of Merits and Demerits:
Buddhism ‘converts morality into a vast scheme of profit and loss. Hence the Chinese Buddhist actually
keeps a debtor and creditor account with himself of the acts of each day, and at the end of the year he
closes his current account and makes out a balance-sheet. If the balance is in his favour, it is carried on to
the account of the next year, but if the balance is against him, something extra must be done’ (Eitel 1871
[3rd ed. 1884]: 83 f.).
11
Even the famous poem The Light of Asia (1879) by Edwin Arnold (1832–1904) alludes to this conception:
‘It seeth everywhere and marketh all: / Do right – it recompenseth! do one wrong – /The equal retribution
must be made, / Though DHARMA tarry long. // It knows not wrath nor pardon; utter-true / Its measures
mete, its faultless balance weighs’ (Arnold 1890: 218).
12
‘The productive power of the seed or the fruit may illustrate man’s origin, as possessed of an organized
body, but we may not carry it further. The passing on of an apparent moral and mental identity may be
witnessed in some families [….]. But Buddhism teaches that the new being may be of an entirely different
species to that from whence it proceeded’ (Hardy 1866: XLV); ‘When existence ceases, the karmma [sic]
still lives, and it passes over to its new possessor, with all its interests, properties, obligations, and liabil-
ities, whether of punishment or reward’ (Hardy 1866: 64).
Religion 5
Budhist [sic] is as mercenary an act as the toils of the merchant to secure the posses-
sion of wealth’ (Hardy 1853: 507).
Nearly at the same time, the French philosopher Jules Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire
(1805–95) equated in Du Bouddhisme (1855) the doctrine of ‘transmigration,’ ‘cette
doctrine monstrueuse’ (Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire 1866: 183) with an ‘unholy’
attempt of calculating atonement: salvation as a ‘mercantile transaction.’ We may
quote from the English translation, published in 1895, of his work Le Bouddha et
sa religion (1860):
‘Doubtless it is good for man to look forward to a future life; and to meditate
upon eternity, which can alone explain to him whence he comes and whither he
returns; face to face with this grand idea, he feels all his weakness and also all
his worth; it gives him the key of his destiny, if he knows how to interrogate it dis-
creetly and wisely. But he must beware of lowering or destroying it, by looking to
nothing but a reward, as the price of his good actions. The thought of eternal salva-
tion becomes then no longer a virtue; it is but a mercantile transaction; and as
nothing is more fluctuating than calculation and self-interest […]. In a truer and
more saintly religion, he can rely on God’s justice to reward or punish him eter-
nally; but in a religion that knows no God – the irreparable error of Buddhist
faith – man remains his own judge; it is he, who of his own authority decides
that which merits or does not merit salvation; he is judge in his own case, and
that is hardly the way to be equitable and infallible’13 (Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire
[1895]: 153; for the latter’s interpretation of Buddhism see Droit 2003: 121 ff.).
Obviously, this portrayal brings in the Judeo-Christian idea of God being the
only one to inscribe (or erase) entries in a ‘heavenly book’ (of life, deeds, or fate)
that will be decisive for the eternal destiny of the souls (cf. Baynes 2011).
The development towards a fully fledged ‘karmic-bank-account’ metaphor
appears to have become accomplished around the end of the 19th century. The ear-
liest proof I could trace of this is a passage in the work on Buddhism and Hinduism
by the famous Sir Monier Monier-Williams, Boden Chair of Sanskrit, Oxford Uni-
versity: ‘For every Buddhist is like a trader who keeps a ledger, with a regular
debtor and creditor account, and a daily entry of profit and loss. He must not
take, make, or hoard money. He is forbidden to store up a money-balance in a
worldly bank, but he is urged to be constantly accumulating merit-balance in the
bank of Karma’ (Monier-Williams 1889: 143–144). Interestingly, this statement is
again situated in a comparison of Christian and Buddhist ideas of ethics and
salvation.
This depiction is perpetuated by of one of the founding fathers of political
economy, Max Weber (1864–1920), who explained: ‘All (ritual or ethical) merits
or debts of the individual form some kind of current account; its balance inevitably
determines the future fate of the soul in rebirth, in accordance with the exact pro-
portions of surplus funds on one, or on the other side of the account. Therefore,
‘eternal’ rewards or punishments cannot exist at all: they would be absolutely
13
To quote the crucial sentences from the French original: ‘La pensée du salut éternel n’est plus alors une
vertu ; c’est un calcul […]. Dans une religion plus vraie et plus sainte, il peut s’en remettre à la justice de
Dieu du soin de récompenser ou de punir éternellement ; mais, dans une religion qui ne connaît point
Dieu, malheur irréparable de religion Bouddhique, l’homme demeure son propre juge ; c’est lui qui, de
son autorité privée, décide de ce qui mérite le salut ou de ce qui s’en éloigne’ (Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire
1866: 150 f.; cf. Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire 1855: 215 f.).
6 J. Schlieter
non-proportional in relation to a finite action’ (my translation).14 Certain elements

of the apologetic Christian interpretation of the ethics of karma are still vibrant in
Weber’s sociological interpretation – for example, the assumption that the idea of a
proportional ‘karma currency,’ linked to single actions, is incompatible with the
acceptance of an ‘eternal’ reward or punishment. A strong resonance of the Chris-
tian’s critical appraisal of the ‘karma bank’ is, moreover, to be found in Har Dayal’s
groundbreaking study on the Bodhisattva doctrine (1932): ‘A virtuous person
“accumulates” Merit (kuçala-sañcaya), as a thrifty man deposits money in the
bank. No simile appears to be more suitable than that of a bank-account. […]
The Buddhists have developed a precise quantitative view of puṇ ya, which
seems to convert their much-vaunted ethics into a sordid system of commercial
arithmetic’ (Dayal 1932: 189).
To sum up the observations made so far in respect to the early European con-
structions of the karmic ‘bank-account’ metaphor, it becomes clear that two impor-
tant strands formed the texture of the widespread application of this metaphor.
First and foremost, some European scholars perceived knowledge of moral book-
keeping practices in China, Burma and elsewhere (cf. Robson 2012). Second, early
Western accounts of the ‘doctrine of karma’ were significantly shaped by under-
lying concepts of the Christian tradition – namely, the sinfulness of man, atone-
ment, and the mercy of God. We may add that the ‘karma-account’
interpretation is, as originally intended, strongly ‘soteriological’ – it focuses only
on its future effects. In various Indian traditions, however, karma has also been
used as an explanation of the actual situation of a living being, which is, as a
matter of fact, a ‘karmic embodiment’ in regard to its life form, physical appear-
ance, health, innate tendencies, etc.15 This physical manifestation of accumulated
past karma is, again, incongruous with the ‘bank-account’ metaphor.
Applying economic models of ‘accounting with karma,’ was, therefore, initially
not a ‘neutral’ move of interpretation but could tie in with a certain criticism of
making calculations with the remission of sins. However, with the rise of the aca-
demic, and often sympathetic, study of Buddhism in the 20th century, the ‘karma-
account’ metaphor became more and more ‘neutral,’ leaving Christian apologetics
behind. Truly, in recent decades the phrase of a ‘karmic debt’ has become some-
thing like a ‘New Age cliché,’ as David Graeber puts it so aptly (Graeber 2011:
433, n. 35).
Assessing the usage of metaphor in these contexts, one might be tempted to raise
the objection that these subtle differences are not very significant; or, that meta-
phors fulfill merely a preliminary pedagogical function by illustrating a certain
train of thought. To substantiate the approach in use here, I now insert some meth-
odological remarks on conceptual metaphor theories before moving on to a more
14
‘Alle (rituellen oder ethischen) Verdienste und Verschuldungen des Einzelnen bilden eine Art von Kon-
tokorrent, dessen Saldo unweigerlich das weitere Schicksal der Seele bei der Wiedergeburt bestimmt,
und zwar ganz genau proportional dem Maß des Überschusses der einen oder der anderen Seite des
Kontos. “Ewige” Belohnungen oder Strafen kann es also unmöglich geben: sie wären ja absolut unpro-
portional einem endlichen Tun’ (Weber 1988: 118; cf. Weber 1963: 146). Needless to say, this metaphor
concurs perfectly well with Weber’s background and his theory of the close interaction between religious
ideas (such as Protestant ethics) and economics (e.g., the rise of capitalism).
15
In the Avadānaśataka (31), the Buddha explains: ‘The acts that [a person] performs and accumulates,
monks, do not bear fruit outside [of that person] … Rather, the acts […] – whether pure or impure – bear
fruit in the skandhas, dhātus, and āyatanas that [he] receives’ (trl. in Ohnuma 2007: 225 f.).
Religion 7
thorough analysis of some peculiar pecuniary characteristics of spiritual economics

in early Buddhism.
Conceptual metaphor theory

How can conceptual metaphor theory help to understand metaphors in emic Bud-
dhist discourse? This theory, which was introduced by George Lakoff and Mark
Johnson in the 1980s, argues that many mental activities, such as solving problems,
budgeting time, etc., ‘are metaphorical in nature. The metaphorical concepts that
characterize those activities structure our present reality. New metaphors have
the power to create a new reality. This can begin to happen when we start to com-
prehend our experience in terms of a metaphor, and it becomes a deeper reality
when we begin to act in terms of it’ (Lakoff and Johnson 2003: 146).
Early human inventions such as the wheel, the chariot, the lamp, or money, are
primarily useful artifacts, but not only that. Very often such artifacts are used as a
‘source domain’ for explaining abstract ‘target domains.’ According to Lakoff and
Johnson, every metaphor dwells on these two domains: first, the target domain,
‘which is constituted by the immediate subject matter,’ and second, the source
domain, ‘that provides the source concepts used in that reasoning. Metaphorical
language has literal meaning in the source domain. In addition, a metaphoric
mapping is multiple, that is, two or more elements are mapped to two or more
other elements. Image-schema structure is preserved in the mapping – interiors
of containers map to interiors, exteriors map to exteriors; sources of motion to
sources, goals to goals, and so on’ (Lakoff and Johnson 2003: 266). They illustrate
this relationship with the metaphor ‘time is money.’ It structures our society in
certain ways: ‘hourly wages, hotel room rates, yearly budgets, interest on loans,
and paying your debt to society by “serving time.” These practices are relatively
new in the history […], and by no means do they exist in all cultures. They have
arisen in modern industrialized societies […]. Corresponding to the fact that we
act as if time is a valuable commodity – a limited resource, even money – we con-
ceive of time that way. Thus we understand and experience time as the kind of
thing that can be spent, wasted, budgeted, invested wisely or poorly, saved, or
squandered’ (Lakoff and Johnson 2003: 9).
The methodology of conceptual metaphor analysis implies that it is possible and
useful to trace a metaphor from its target domain to its source domain, thereby
revealing the underlying cognitive concept, and moreover, revealing the whole
mental model that enables its use. Additionally, the employed metaphors point
to common basics of the respective life-world that is thought to be easily under-
standable. As an example, applying metaphors from a source domain of ‘chariots’
(frequent already in Vedic texts, e.g., parts of chariots, steering a chariot, the splen-
dor of chariots, chariot races, etc.) implies that these are – or were once – a part of
the experienced world. The diachronic dimensions of certain metaphors, their his-
toricity, were, however, largely neglected in early conceptual metaphor theory. For
example, even though no longer in use, chariots may survive in literature. If signifi-
cant historic changes in the source domain take place, certain metaphors will most
likely be replaced by other, or more advanced, metaphors. Yet, these changes can be
traced by surveying the historical chronology of metaphor usage – a diachronic
history of cognitive metaphors. Below, I will try to outline such a chronology for
cognitive metaphors of karma.
8 J. Schlieter
Other problematic issues of the classical approach have led to valuable modifi-
cations of conceptual metaphor theory. Actually, Lakoff and Johnson were
mainly interested in providing evidence for their theory that visual metaphors
are essential for orientation in space (and time). Refining this theory, Gilles Faucon-
nier and Mark Turner could show that metaphors do not solely provide visual
images: many metaphors work without a visual source domain. Moreover, quite
often several ‘source domains’ may feed into one target domain. In order to
adjust metaphor theory to these observations, Fauconnier and Turner introduced
the theory of ‘conceptual blending’: the single – both source and target –
domains are now understood as ‘mental frames.’ All these frames figure as a
mental space – none of which are a product of a single mapping. Apart from
visual elements, frames may additionally encompass senso-motoric schemata, trig-
gers of certain emotions, etc. Even incompatible input spaces can be creatively com-
bined in the ‘blend’ (cf. Fauconnier and Turner 2002).

Furthermore, the question of the function of metaphor in this ‘blended’ space has
been addressed in detail. Many metaphors use concepts of an embodied perspec-
tive. A metaphor such as ‘digging one’s own grave [by a certain action]’ refers to
a certain situation of bodily movement, combined with an emotional quality.
Applying insights from Antonio Damasio’s neuropsychological research on soma-
tically marked images (Damasio 1994; Damasio, Everitt and Bishop 1996), linguist
and sinologist Edward Slingerland proposed the explanation that such a usage of
‘embodied mind’ metaphors triggers certain emotions, which help in decision
making. For example, the metaphor ‘digging one’s own financial grave’ (cf. Faucon-
nier and Turner 2002: 131 f.), imports elements of death and dying and financial
failure into an blended space, thereby marking an intended, abstract financial
action with an emotional quality, raising awareness of the possible dangerous
implication (cf. Slingerland 2005: 561 f.). More specifically, it is the emotional
quality of metaphorical ‘images’ that enables a person to quickly sort out a high
number of options for action (which are marked by negative emotions) before
rationally analyzing and weighing a limited number of alternatives (Slingerland
2004; 2005). The opposite case can, of course, be observed in the same manner –
metaphors positively marked that pre-define a desired action.
In my view, the benefits of applying conceptual metaphor theory to textual
sources of religious traditions harbor a great potential. As of yet, they have
merely been indicated, while a systematic appraisal of this theory for the study
of religion is still pending.
Money, metaphors, and karma in early Buddhism

In contrast to metaphors of ‘karma accounts,’ in early Buddhist – and non-Buddhist
Indian – sources16 there are predominantly four different fields of cognitive
16
We have to admit that the early texts of Theravāda are by no means completely transparent and unaf-
fected by later changes. Oskar von Hinüber could demonstrate how the canonical ‘threefold’ or ‘fourfold’
workings of karma (regarding the time of ripening) are most probably a 15th-century correction of the
textus receptus. Changing an absolutive (P. upapajja[ṃ ]) with a tentative locative (upapajje) and inserting
the ‘correction’ in the canonical manuscripts (M III. 214, A I.134) has popularized a new understanding
of karma ripening, namely, ‘in the here and now, or in (a future) rebirth, or in some future period’ (cf. von
Hinüber 1971: 247–248; cf. Bhikkhu Anālayo 2011: 2.779–780 n. 118). While we have to allow for changes
Religion 9
metaphors regarding karma in use, namely: (1) botanical-agricultural metaphors of

‘ripening’ (P./Skt. vipāka) of ‘seeds’ (P./Skt. bīja), which will bear ‘fruit’ (P./Skt. phala);
(2) metaphors of ‘dark’ and ‘bright’ karma;17 (3) metaphors of ‘inheritance,’ succes-
sion in property, and ownership; and (4) ‘heaping up’ and ‘unloading’ ‘weight.’18 A
famous passage of the Saṃ yutta Nikāya may suffice to illustrate the dominant meta-
phorical system of botany and agriculture:
According to the seed that’s sown, / So is the fruit ye reap therefrom
Doer of good [will gather] good, / Doer of evil, evil [reaps].
Sown is the seed, and planted well. / Thou shalt enjoy the fruit thereof
(S I. 227; Rhys Davids et al. 1917, vol. I: 293).
To prevent unwholesome karma, the dissemination of bad seeds must be avoided –
and vice versa: to bear the good ‘fruits’ of action, right deeds should be ‘planted.’
Other texts apply the metaphors of ‘roots’ (mūla) of bad actions or intentions.
Unwholesome deeds and intentions, i.e., ‘roots’ of ‘weed’ (‘weeds’ are lust,
hatred, and delusion, the ‘blemishes’ of ‘ordinary people,’ cf. Dhammapada verses
356–359), must be cut. In accordance with this botanic-agricultural metaphorical
vein of early Buddhist karma-thought is the ‘field of merit’ (P. puññakkhetta, Skt.
puṇ yakṣetra, e.g., M I. 447; A I. 244; A II. 34 f., A III. 279), understood, for
example, as morally high-ranked monks and nuns to whom donations shall be
addressed. Giving alms to virtuous ones who have abolished greed/lust, hatred,
and delusion, bears great fruit (again Dhp. verses 356–359). Elsewhere the ‘field
of merit’ is metaphorically exemplified by seeds which will lead, sown in a
fertile and well-watered field, to high-yield crops – likewise will alms, given to
the virtuous practitioners, yield great results (A I. 162; A IV. 238; cf. Obeyesekere
2002: 138). The third metaphorical system (the second will be discussed below)
of ‘inheriting kamma effects’ seems to be less frequent. Beings, we read in the Cūḷa-
kammavibhaṅ gasutta (M III. 203), are ‘heirs of kamma’ (P. kamma-dāyāda; kamma-dāy-
ādaka).19 In some instances a combination of both metaphorical systems can be
found, e.g., in the Atthasālinī (Asl 91–92; Maung Tin 1920–21, vol. I: 147 f.). The
fourth class of metaphors, the ‘weight of karma,’ seems to be more recent.20
in the textus receptus, we may nevertheless concord with Anālayo’s conclusion that the finalization of the
Pāli discourses was, in doctrinal terms, ‘fairly closed [...] by the time of the 1st century BCE’ (Anālayo
2012: 224).
17
Included in this class of metaphors are also those with the imagery of ‘dark/clouded’ and ‘light/lumi-
nous,’ e.g., Theragāthā, verse 872: ‘He whose evilly-done action is blocked off by a good action, illumi-
nates this world like the moon released from a cloud’ (Norman 1990: 83).
18
More infrequently used metaphors of karma are: a ‘shadow’ or a ‘servant,’ closely following the doer of
deeds (cf. Krishan 1997: 69); and yet other metaphors are ‘food’ (P./Skt. āhāra) and ‘digestion’ in relation
to karma (e.g., S II. 11); ‘[non-] coagulating’ (P. mucchati) of karma (Dhp. 71, cf. Norman 2006: 115); or the
metaphor for ‘meritorious effects’ as resulting in ‘tasty flesh’ – if we may still call this a ‘metaphor,’
because it has a rather literal meaning – in connection to the self-sacrificial giving away of the Bodhisattva’s
body (cf. Ohnuma 2007: 224–231). A closer look might even reveal an influence of medical metaphors (purity,
health, hygiene, etc., cf. Pingree 1997, and the karmic ‘disease etiology’, cf. Wujastyk 2003: 403–404), intended
to ‘defatalize the karma’ (‘defataliser le karman’), as observed by Arion Roşu (cf. Roşu 1978: 90; 217).
19
Cf. Anālayo 2011, vol. II: 767–781; cf. also A III. 72; A V.289; M I. 390; Sn 666; for the Burmese tradition:
Spiro 1970: 116–122.
20
For example, we read in the Kathāvatthu (XVIII.1) in regard to untenable proposition that Arhats still
accumulate merit: ‘You must further admit that, in his karma, he is heaping up or unloading, putting
away or grasping […] dispersing or collecting’ (Aung and Rhys Davids 1993 [1915]: 312).
10 J. Schlieter
Metaphors of ‘ripening’ show that the beginnings of Buddhism in an agricultural

environment lead to a conceptualization of karma in biological schemes of ‘ripen-
ing.’ Hypothetically, we assume that agricultural metaphors might be slightly older
than inheritance metaphors. Biological schemes of ‘inheritance’ could build the
bridge to metaphors of ‘succession in property.’
Although ‘good’ and ‘bad’ seeds form some kind of ‘unit,’ the expected crops,
fruits, etc., are not observable in a straight-forward manner: other factors
(weather conditions, vermin, etc.) contribute to agricultural success or failure as
well. Therefore, the conceptual metaphor of karma in terms of agricultural-
botanical seeds ‘incurs’ a certain amount of uncertainty (in regard to the causal
relation between action/intention and reward) from the conceptual input
domain.21 Instead of a deterministic causality of cause and effect, the metaphors
used exemplify a relation of condition and consequence/result (cf. Findly 2003:
253 f.). Several texts disclose that for the doer of deeds a certain residual uncertainty
regarding the particular time of ‘ripening’ remained. Whether karmic fruits grow
already ‘in this life’ or not cannot be known thoroughly;22 karma ‘fructifies’ if
time and environment are suitable.
Although, of course, later philosophical texts transform and refine the condition-
ality of karma into a mental or psychological law, it could be shown – but not here –
that the traditional metaphors are to some extent still at work. Taking these aspects
into consideration, we may conclude that a quantification of abstract ‘karma units’
in a one-to-one causal relationship of invested action and reward seems to be diffi-
cult to handle for conceptual metaphors from agriculture, and, albeit for different
reasons, for metaphors of inheritance, too.23 Here, the general merits, or, to be more
straightforward, the ‘profit’ of the ‘karma as money’ metaphor may gain ground.
To point out only some aspects: first and foremost, an abstract domain – that of
karma – is visualized in a concrete way of rationalizing investment in relation to
profit. Second, ‘unwholesome karma’ (P. akusala kamma) can be conceptualized as
negative sum – debts – that can be amortized with ‘positive karma.’ Third, the
storage of money/valuable deeds (and, likewise, the amortization of debts) may,
at least in theory, be an outcome of a long-term rational behavior, which will
turn to account beyond one’s lifetime (the ‘cultivation cycle’ of seeds and fruits,
is, in contrast, of limited use, because fruits ripen and, being ripe, should be ‘con-
sumed’ – i.e., positive karma will have shown up and ‘be realized’ at a decisive
moment).
Fourth, generosity by giving material donations (dāna), arguably the most central
religious obligation of lay Buddhists, can be connected to the accumulation of posi-
tive karma resulting in ‘merit’ (puñña) – allowing for a precise definition of the sum
21
One may refer to the classifications of ‘undetermined’ (P. aniyata) and ‘indeterminate’ (P. avyākata)
kamma here (cf. McDermott 1977, 32 f.)
22
Critical in this context of the gain of ‘fruits’ (phala) is the question addressed in the Sāmaññaphalasutta
(D I. 47 ff.) regarding the fruits of asceticism to be experienced in this very life. In the Milindapañha, Nāga-
sena explains the impossibility of pointing out directly the karmic quality of deeds with a telling meta-
phor: ‘“Now what do you think, O king? Can any one point out the fruits which a tree has not yet
produced, saying: “Here they are, or there”?” “Certainly not, Sir.” “Just so, great king, so long as the
continuity of life is not cut off, it is impossible to point out the deeds that are done”’ (Mil 72; Rhys
Davids 1890, vol. I: 112). However, ‘knowing the fruits of karma’ is included among the ‘ten powers’
(P. dasabala) of a Buddha.
23
Compare in this respect the argumentation of M I. 36; S III. 210; or A IV. 197.
Religion 11
to be donated in certain situations. Finally, heterogeneous elements (such as actions

and their intentions, material giving, time invested into religious practices, etc.) can
be converted into a homogenous and quantifiable ‘currency’; it helps to visualize
how much one might need to pay back certain ‘karmic debts.’
The advancement of money commerce might have contributed to an important
innovative doctrine in relation to possible handlings of karma – the idea of a ‘trans-
fer of merit’ (P. anumodanā). Though more important in Mahāyāna Buddhism (Skt./
P. pariṇ āma, pariṇ āmanā), this doctrine is found in Hīnayāna inscriptions and
younger strata of Theravāda Buddhist Pāli sources as well (cf. Schopen 1997: 43
ff.; Findly 2003: 258 ff.). According to this idea, a practitioner can transfer his
good karma to others, e.g., the deceased, for their benefit. Indeed, the practice to
accrue ‘merit,’ according to Gombrich ‘some kind of spiritual cash’ (Gombrich
2006: 126),24 by donating money for local monasteries, shrines, or stūpas, indicates
a conceptual framework of a ‘moral economy’ (Rotman 2009: 11) at work. By donat-

ing ‘real’ money, a transfer of merit to deceased parents or saints, or for ‘the welfare
and happiness for all beings’ (Skt. sarvasatvahitasukha{ā}r{th}a, Lüders 1961:
Mathurā Inscriptions §29, cited in Schopen 1997: 35), they intend to gain rebirth
in ‘another world’ (Skt./P. paraloka), or a heavenly place. According to Andy
Rotman, these two economies – moral and commercial – do not ‘just mirror each
other, they also intersect and interact’ (Rotman 2009: 11). And again, we find the
‘bank-account’ metaphor – not to be found in the respective texts – in play: ‘The
balance in one’s actual bank account is indicative of one’s moral standing. Numer-
ous characters in the Divyāvadāna “cash in” the merit they’ve accrued from an offer-
ing in order to be reborn “in a family that is rich, wealthy, and prosperous”’ ([Divy
23.18–19, 192.14–15, 289.6–7, 313.223]; Rotman 2009: 11).
Though some Mahāyāna texts such as Śāntideva’s Śikṣāsamuccaya present the
idea that one should express regret for unwholesome actions committed, i.e.,
repenting one’s ‘sins’ (cf. Nattier 2003: 117 ff.; Robson 2012: 79 ff.), it is still a
matter of ‘purification,’ and not settling ‘debts.’ In fact, an equation of karma and
debts does appear in Nāgārjuna’s Mūlamadhyamakakārikā (1st or 2nd century CE):
‘[an imperishable] action [Skt. karma] is like an uncancelled obligation [pattra],
and like a debt [ṛṇ a]’ (verse XVII.15, cf. Inada 1970: 107 f.). This is indeed a ‘mercan-
tile metaphor,’ appealing ‘to mercantile classes that were becoming important
patrons’ (Lusthaus 2002: 239 n. 10; cf. 210). Although karma is equated with a
debt (and, through the eyes of later commentators, maybe implicitly also with
money25), the metaphor is used for highlighting the relation between the agent,
24
Merit is ‘sometimes treated like a kind of merchandise which can be bought or sold, or a kind of spiri-
tual money. Its transference can be demanded or even extorted. Yet, in spite of such borderline cases, the
non-magical ethics of Buddhism reasserts itself by the fact that transference of merit always seems to
require, on the part of the transferer, the explicit intention to transfer and, on the part of the transferee,
the thankful or joyous consent (anumodanā) to accept the transference’ (Schmithausen 1986: 214, referring
to Matthews 1983: 135–136).
25
The Tibetan commentator Tsongkhapa explains this verse in his ‘Ocean of Reasoning’: ‘In virtue of
executing the promissory note, even though the money has been spent, the creditor will receive the
money with interest at a later time. […] Once the money is repaid to the creditor – whether or not he
still has the money – he cannot claim the money again with the same promissory note. In the same
way, when the indestructible karma has ripened […] it can no longer have anything to do with that
agent’ (rTsa shes ṭik chen rigs pa’i rgya mtsho [Tsongkhapa 1987: 304], Ngawang Samten and Garfield
2006: 355).
12 J. Schlieter
his deed, and the ripening of the karmic quality – some kind of ‘heavenly karma
account’ is obviously neither necessary for the simile, nor alluded to.
Even though there are certain advantages of the cognitive-metaphorical system,
the Indian Buddhists did not develop the ‘bank-account’ metaphor. The most
important aspect, which follows intuitively from the metaphors of ‘ripening,’ is
the non-convertibility of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ karma, because they reap autono-
mously.26 There is no ‘double-entry bookkeeping’ in karma. This can be seen
very clearly in the metaphor of ‘dark’ (P. kiṇ hā/kaṇ ha) and ‘bright’ (P. sukka)
karma (e.g., D. I.163; M I.389–391; S I.129; cf. Adam 2005: 68 f.; Harvey 2010:
192 f.), which result in either a ‘dark,’ or a ‘bright ripening’ (kaṇ havipāka and sukka-
vipāka) of the respective ‘type’ of karma. Moreover, the Buddha explains that there
is ‘action that is dark-and-bright with dark-and-bright ripening’ (M I.389–391;
Harvey 2010: 193) – explicitly a mixture of both effects, and not a neutralization
of one by the other.27

In respect to the two different qualities of karma effects, ‘there is no balancing of
good and evil karma. In fact, there is no amalgamation of each class of karmas’
(Krishan 1997: 542 [with Indian sources]), and, accordingly, no single ‘currency’
of karma. As a matter of fact, the concept of amassing two different qualities of
karma becomes obvious in the ‘moral bookkeeping’ practices. In regard to the
modern Burmese tradition Melford Spiro observed: ‘Many Burmese keep merit
account books, which at any time permit them to calculate the current state of
their merit bank’ (Spiro 1970: 111). As such, the practice of maintaining a record
of ‘meritorious deeds’ in books (‘merit books,’ P. puññapottha[ka]) seems to date
back at least to the 5th or 6th century. An early proof for the practice can be
found in the Mahāvaṃ sa (6th century CE). It reports that King Duṭth ̣ agāmaṇ ī
kept a ‘merit book’ which was read out to him while he was approaching death.
The king, we read in chapter XXXII, ‘commanded that the book of meritorious
deeds [P. puññapotthaka] be brought, and he bade the scribe read it aloud, and he
read the book aloud: “Ninety-nine vihāras have been built by the great king, […]
with (the spending of) nineteen koṭis, the Maricavaṭtị vihāra; [etc.]”’ (Mahāvaṃ sa
XXXII, 23–26; translation by Geiger 1912: 222; Pāli text according to Geiger 1908:
259). A similar conception, intermingled with certain Confucian and Daoist self-
cultivation practices of recording merit and – in contrast to the South Asian Bud-
dhist ‘meritbooks’ – recording also demerit, seems to have evolved in medieval
Buddhist traditions of Imperial China (cf. Yü 1981: 120–122; quoted above).
However, at least in Theravāda Buddhism, ‘moral bookkeeping’ is not comparable
to practices of clearing a ‘debt and credit’ account. Basically, the religious practices
26
The inaptitude of the bank-account metaphor could be shown for other forms of karma, too, such as the
‘in-’ and ‘undeterminate’ karma (cf. McDermott 1977: 31), or the ‘immovable karma’ (e.g., in the Abhid-
harmakośa IV.45–46).
27
There is an important difference in the use of the Pāli terms kusala/akusala and puñña/pāpa. The former,
symmetrically coextensive terms are used to qualify the (un-)wholesome quality of conditions, behavior,
intentions etc., such as ‘faulty/faultless’ or ‘un-/healthy’ states (a-/kusalā dhammā, Asl 38 f.). Yet, both are
incongruent with puñña (the ‘meritorious karma’) and pāpa, the ‘bad karma’ (the literal meaning of papa
being ‘infertile,’ ‘barren,’ cf. Cousins 1996: 156; Harvey 2010: 201). Actually, puñña and pāpa are explicitly
used in relation to the karmic ripening of effects, which will take place in the future (e.g., Dhp 116; Dhp
119; cf. Harvey 2010: 202), whereas the terms kusala/akusala denote present qualities of given conditions.
The mental states of the Arhat, for example, should be considered as kusala while at the same time being
no longer endowed with puñña – because the Arhat is beyond kamma (cf. Adam 2005: 71).
Religion 13
imply a visualization of the moral quality of deeds; subsequently, these deeds are
summed up in a final settlement. Therefore, this is not precisely a metaphor of a
karmic ‘bank account’ but, actually, a ‘deeds account.’ Taken literally, it is a
‘book’ (Sinhala: potha) or diary in which only the expected ‘meritorious’ (Sinhala:
pin) outcomes of actions will be written down; ‘debts,’ or ‘sins’ – to use the
Judeo-Christian term – are not registered. ‘Books of meritorious deeds’ are in use
till today – e.g., in modern Sinhala Buddhism, where they are still called ‘merit
books’ (Sinhala: pin potha; Wickremeratne 2006: 148); – as some kind of ‘spiritual
terminal care’ (cf. Berkwitz 2007: 285).
To round up the argument presented here, I will finally take a short look at the
material culture of ancient India. Indeed, the metaphor of a bank account seems
only plausible for a society with an advanced banking system. Such a development,
though, has to rely on the invention of writing and basic bureaucratic skills in
accounting, i.e., a banking system. At least for early India, most likely up to the
times of Aśoka, these preconditions were not given; a metaphorical use of ‘bank
accounts’ would be, therefore, rather astonishing.28
A second prerequisite for pecuniary metaphors – specifically, for monetary
‘debts,’ but not loan agreements in general – is the invention of money.29 There
is sufficient evidence that the use of money in the form of punch-marked silver
and copper coins has been introduced somewhere around the 5th or 4th century
B.C. (cf. Dasgupta 1993: 103; Thapar 2003: 161 f.).30 Accordingly, various Buddhist
texts mention coined money (P. kahāpaṇ a), although more frequently so in later text
compilations such as the Jātakas (see Gupta 1992: 22).
The invention, based on the progress of iron technology, enabled a new form of
commerce such as money lending and other transactions. It had a significant
impact on social status – on the accumulation of wealth on the side of merchants
and ‘money lenders’ (P. seṭtḥ i) as well as on insolvency on the side of laborers.
Again, this is reflected in Buddhist texts that ‘show that failure to pay debts led
to the enslavement of the debtors’ (Dasgupta 1993: 14).
Several texts – probably of younger strata – in the Pāli Canon, which treat the
question of money and wealth, show a two-fold attitude. For Śramaṇ as the posses-
sion of money was inadequate. Inversely, lay Buddhists were encouraged to
accumulate a certain wealth – it could provide a stable position in society and
enable donations (Skt./P. dāna) to the saṅ gha. In sum: ‘The Buddha is promoting
a modest “get rich” scheme, a scheme proposing self-confidence, self-assertiveness
28
Though ‘bank accounts’ (and the respective metaphors) are absent in the early and later Indian texts,
the Pāli canon mentions the existence of ‘store-rooms’ for riches and money – helpful for bribery, as King
Pasenadi of Kosala freely admits, but of no merit beyond death: ‘In my court there is ample gold and
bullion stored away underground and laid up in storerooms to buy over advancing enemies with
money; but there is no scope or use for those battles when ageing and death are closing in upon me.
When ageing and death are closing in upon me, Lord, what else can I do but walk in the Dhamma,
walk in righteousness, cultivate what is wholesome and make merit?’ (S III. 25; Ñāṇ amoli 1972: 274).
29
It is tempting to comment on David Graeber’s recent theory on primordial debts which is, though part
of an impressive enterprise, not convincing in every respect. In short, Graeber seems to be quite
‘indebted’ to a Christian understanding of ‘existential debts’ – compare, for example, his interpretation
of Brāhmaṇ a texts (Graeber 2011: 43, 56–57).
30
Bailey and Mabbett refer to the findings of Jonathan Cribb (1985), who ‘concludes that the earliest
Indian coins, the various punch-marked silver issues, originated in the Gandhāra area from imitations
of Greek coins early in the 4th century BC’ (Bailey and Mabbett 2003: 57).
14 J. Schlieter
and self-knowledge (in the sense of goal-setting) and negotiating skills that will
facilitate advancement in all spheres – except that of the monk, deliberately
excluded here – in which the layman may find himself’ (Bailey and Mabbett
2003: 54).31 Rich merchants and wealthy aristocrats were an important group
among the supporters and of growing importance for the saṅ gha in the process
of its institutionalization by founding monasteries, setting up relic shrines
(stūpas), or to raise funds for projects such as costly statues and so on.
In contrast to Brāhmaṇ ic authorities, Buddhists favored money lending but
praised, simultaneously, the status of being free from debts (‘freedom from debt’
as goal is described in e.g., A II. 67–68; M I. 275; cf. Pande 1995: 314; Sharma
1983: 123–126).32 Since – in the earliest phase of Buddhism – writing had most prob-
ably not yet been in use, to pay back one’s debt in due time seems to be even more
important. Later sources, such as the Khadiraṅ gārajātaka (Jātaka no. 40), indicate
that debts had been written down – depicting a person carrying ‘in one hand the
leaf-letter [the certificate of debt], in the other a pencil’ (P. ekena hatthena paṇ ṇ aṃ ,
ekena lekhaniṃ ; J-A I.230) while visiting the debtor.
In respect to early Indian Buddhism, one may observe a general transition in
society – somewhere between the 5th and 3rd century BC – in regard to the under-
standing of wealth in terms of reasonable ‘investment.’ This transition might even
be a precondition for the development of philosophy.33 Furthermore, the donation
or payment of money for religious services offered by certain religious specialists
became a disputed topic. Early Buddhist texts already leveled criticism against
large-scale bloody sacrifices, portraying these as an invention of ‘greedy’ Brahmins;
e.g., in the Suttanipāta (Sn 285–308; trl. e.g., by Norman 1995: 49–51).34 These
31
Instrumental for economic well-being, re-investment of a certain amount of the income is praised (D.
III. 188), and even an attitude of economic cleverness, which is used as a comparison for character traits
to be praised in monks, seems to be tolerable: ‘A shop owner (P. pāpaṇ ika), monks, knows his merchan-
dise. “If this article is bought for so and so much, and sold for so and so much, then this much money
(mūla), this much profit (udaya) will be there.” That is, monks, how a shop owner is shrewd’ (A I. 116).
32
Debts should, of course, be paid back in one’s lifetime. In the Suttanipāta, we read: ‘120. Who(ever)
indeed having contracted a debt, when urged (to repay it) absconds, saying: ‘(I have) no debt to you’,
him one should know (to be) an outcaste. […] 122. What(ever) man for his own sake or for another’s
sake or for wealth, speaks falsely when asked in person, him one should know (to be) an outcaste’
(Norman 1995: 14).
33
In his recent work What the Buddha Thought, Richard Gombrich acknowledges the ‘radical effect on
thought of monetization’ by quoting Richard Seaford: ‘There is a striking similarity with what I have
argued to be the socio-economic preconditions for the […] beginnings of western “philosophy” (in
my Money and the Greek Mind). […] The “metaphysics of money” involves “the belief that we are primar-
ily individual agents and only secondary (if at all) members of a larger [social] entity”’ (Seaford, cited in
Gombrich 2009: 24; cf. Seaford 2004).
34
This text portrays the encounter of Brahmins with rich kings of the ‘warrior’-caste (P. khattiya) as the
initial situation in which the Brahmins got interested in prosperity (cf. Schlieter 2012). The accusation
in condensed words: only for that purpose Brahmins invented the ideology of sacrificial duties. The
king and other wealthy individuals had to pay for the sacrificial services offered by organized Brahmins.
Brahmins were moreover criticized for their corrupt behavior, cf. Bailey and Mabbett 2003: 120; cf. D
II.244 ff.; M III.167. Other texts such as the Brahmajālasutta (D I. 1 ff.) criticize the arrangement of auspi-
cious dates in order to accumulate money, and other lucrative religious services of Brahmins and asce-
tics. According to the new ideology of Buddhism and other ascetic movements, there is no need for large
sacrifices because they are not only harmful to sentient beings but, moreover, a waste of resources.
Instead, lay adherents should give donations to the saṅ gha and kings are encouraged to redistribute
their wealth, e.g., to enable trade and commerce (cf. the Kūṭadantasutta; D I.127–149).
Religion 15
aspects of the early Indian Buddhist discourse on wealth and money may suffice
for our purpose – the question of the material basis of the respective pecuniary
metaphors of ‘spiritual economics.’
To summarize, there are three important metaphorical dimensions. First, money
as a general metaphor for karma; second, the ‘bank account’ of ‘positive’ and ‘nega-
tive’ karma; and third, the metaphor of investing ‘good karma’ – transferring it, for
example, to another person’s ‘savings account’ (‘merit transfer’). Interestingly, the
idea of a ‘negative sum’ of karma – as conceptualized in the Western depiction of
accounting karma – is not to be found in early Pāli Buddhist texts.35 Although
rather sublime, the ‘ban- account metaphor’ may nevertheless trigger certain pro-
blematic cognitive expectations, e.g., that a final ‘balancing’ of negative karma will
somehow take place – similar to monotheistic concepts of remission and forgive-
ness. But since this life is normally not the last one to expect, one might ask
where and when this final ‘balancing’ should take place – taking into account the
numerous births to come. Even in the case of the five ‘sins of immediate retribution’
(P. ānantarika-kamma, Skt. ānantarya-karma),36 which force the deceased to go to hell
promptly after death, the concept of an ‘eternal damnation’ is absent – suffering in
hell is ‘inevitably temporary’ (Silk 2007: 267).
According to the cognitive model of ‘ripening,’ a certain ‘balancing’ will happen
if negative karma is exhausted without residues. By simultaneously acting in
‘wholesome’ ways, thereby piling ‘merits,’ an actor may accelerate the process of
advancing on the path, but, as far as the classical accounts of karma in Theravāda
sources are concerned, strictly speaking not by annihilating ‘bad karma’ through
‘positive karma,’ but by autonomous ‘bright’ effects of ‘bright karma.’
Referring to the qualities of metaphors as somatic markers mentioned
above, there is, however, in one respect a startling accordance between
botanical-agricultural and ‘bank-account’ metaphors. Both metaphors are
emotionally loaded. For an agrarian society, it is substantial for survival to
have a full grain silo. Much in the same way, in a Western urban society a bank
account with a high amount of assets may induce a feeling of ease. In an agrarian
society, people suffer from stomach pain if they realize that their silos are running
out of grain, whereas red numbers in the bank account may have the same psy-
chosomatic effect in a modern urban context. Accordingly, this somatic similarity
not only dilutes the dichotomy of emic/non-pecuniary versus etic/pecuniary
metaphors for karma, but it might also account for the existence of emic
‘karma-as-money’ metaphors. One exciting example shall be discussed now
more thoroughly.
35
An interesting, although rather late, example is an episode of the Aśokāvadāna, preserved in Chinese,
the Ayuwang zhuan (Taishō 2042, 50:131a, transl. by Przyluski 1923: 425–427), in which ‘the weight of
merit’ is equated with literal weight: Aśoka is told that he will be able to obtain certain relics when his
merit outweighs that of a guarding nāga king. ‘Accordingly, two identical gold statues – one of Aśoka
and the other of the nāga king – are fashioned and used to weigh their relative merit. At first, the
nāga king’s image is twice as heavy’ (Strong 2007: 132 f.), but Āsoka manages to do more meritorious
deeds, which eventually results in his statue becoming more heavy than the nāga’s statue. Again,
only ‘merit’ (and not bad karma) figures in this rather literal ‘accumulation.’
36
I.e., the murder of one’s mother, father, or of an Arhat; injuring a Buddha; creating a schism in the
saṅ gha, cf. A III.146; A V.129.
16 J. Schlieter
Paying with karma in the Buddha’s bazaars

Keeping the different metaphor systems for karma in mind, I will proceed to some
rather unusual similes of the Buddha’s teachings which directly equate, or even
identify, karma with money. These ‘unorthodox’ examples, which troubled
interpreters such as Thomas W. Rhys Davids as early as 1894, may show again
how the application of conceptual metaphor theory can be a ‘fruitful’ tool for
interpretation.
The respective passages are to be found in the fifth book of the Milindapañha, ‘The
problem of inference’ (Trenckner 1880: 329–347). The overall question focuses on
the problem of historicity of the Buddha. Nāgasena, the monk who answers the
questions of the Greco-Bactrian King Milinda, argues that the historicity of the
Buddha can be inferred from the existence of the ‘City of Dharma’ (dhammanagara).
This well-established and highly urbanized city seems to be an allegory, metaphori-
cally constructed, for the full-blown, living Buddhist tradition, which establishes –
by functioning well – the basis for the conclusion that the Buddha, the ‘city archi-
tect’ (see Horner 1991, vol. II: 170) of this city, did once exist.
Nāgasena sets out to interpret streets, towers, shops, etc., in that (imagined) city
metaphorically by using these to explain elements of the Buddha’s teachings. Right
from the beginning, the use of metaphors is quite complex: a metaphorical blending
of: (1) an input space ‘city’; (2) an input space of ‘teachings of the Buddha’; and (3)
an input space (the ‘target domain’) of ‘the Buddha’ and his ‘living tradition’ (i.e.,
the conformity of that city with the ‘righteousness’ of the doctrine, the dhamma).
A major part of that city is the main street with certain ‘shops’ or ‘bazaars’
(P. āpaṇ a, cf. Gupta 1992: 36 f.): ‘And in that streetway of the applications of mind-
fulness such shops as these are offering (goods) for sale, that is to say a flower-shop,
a perfume-shop, a fruit-shop […], a jewel-shop and a general shop’ (Horner 1991,
vol. II: 173; cf. Rhys Davids 1894, vol. II: 212).
Most interestingly, one may pay with karma (kamma) in these shops: ‘“But what,
venerable Nāgasena, is the flower bazaar of the Blessed One, the Buddha?” “There
are certain subjects for meditation, O king, that have been made known by the
Blessed One […]. And they are these. The idea of the impermanence (of every
thing and of every being), the idea of the absence of any abiding principle […],
the idea of freedom from passion, the idea of peace, […], the idea of sympathy
with all beings, the idea of equanimity in all the changing circumstances of life,
the idea of death […]. And of these, whoever, longing to be delivered from old
age and death, takes any one as the subject of his meditation, by that meditation
does he become set free from passion […]; and so, entering that glorious city, spot-
less and stainless, pure and white, [333] ageless and deathless, where all is security
and calm and bliss – the city of Nirvāṇ a – he emancipates his mind in Arahatship!
And this, O king, is what is called “The Blessed One’s bazaar of flowers.”
“Take with you Karma as the price,
And go ye up to that bazaar,
Buy there an object for your thought,
Emancipate yourselves. Be free!”’ (Rhys Davids 1894, vol. II: 212–213)37
37
Kammamūlaṁ gahetvāna āpaṇ aṁ upagacchatha, ārammaṇ aṁ kiṇ itvāna tato muccatha muttiyā ti (Trenckner
1880: 333, 5–6).
Religion 17
In contrast to earlier Buddhist views on money and karma, this newly arisen
metaphorical usage of karma as money expands the idea that one may – in this
life – use one’s own good karma as some kind of money (P. °mūla, see Rhys
Davids and Stede 2001: 539) which can be used as payment for obtaining ‘objects
of thought’ or ‘objects of meditation’ (P. ārammaṇ a); indeed, to ‘buy’ (P. kiṇ āti)
them. Even though the text does not speak of a ‘bank,’ the use of the shop metaphor
for the distribution of the teachings of the Buddha is remarkable, too – implying
that ‘good karma’ (i.e., the ‘money’) will be accumulated in the ‘shop-owner’s
hands’ (i.e., in the hands of members of the saṅ gha as legitimate successors of the
Buddha?).
But let us start our discussion with a footnote by Thomas W. Rhys Davids, dis-
playing his irritation of the use of kamma as monetary means of exchange: ‘It does
not seem quite clear at first sight why Karma, of all things, should be the price. That
Indian word being too full of meaning to be translatable is necessarily retained, and
hence the phrase “taking Karma as the price” may convey no meaning at all. […]
But it must mean one of two things, either something to be abandoned, given up; or
something good which the buyer possesses, and may exchange for the good he
wants to buy. If our author means the first it must be Karma […] as a basis for con-
tinued individuality, and be much the same as egoism. If he means the other, then
Karma, though standing alone, must be here used in the sense of kusala-kamma,
good Karma, that is, the effect of good deeds done in a former life. Now our
author never elsewhere uses kamma, without any qualifying adjective, in the
sense of good Karma’ (Rhys Davids 1894, vol II: 213–214).
The metaphorical domain of ‘buying’ with something of ‘worth,’ however, is an
essential part of the whole simile (therefore we do not follow Horner’s interpret-
ation, who declares: ‘I think kamma must be taken as business here, a business
deal [...], and not in the sense of action, deed done with volition’ [Horner 1991,
vol. II: 175]). Rhys Davids’ first suggestion that kamma in this context might
mean ‘negative’ kamma could disable the cognitive metaphor of ‘buying’ (‘negative
karma’ – a ‘price’?). And how should the Buddha, usually far from being a ‘rescuer’
in the monotheistic sense, offer release by piling up the ‘negative karma’ (!) of the
buyers?38
The more plausible interpretation that the ‘price’ given must be ‘positive kamma’
(kusala-kamma) is substantiated by the commentary Milindaṭīkā: ‘“Take with you
Karma as the price”: having taken up the price of wholesome karma in times of
former Buddhas.’39 This is further enforced by the subsequent simile of the
‘bazaar of all manner of merchandise,’ i.e., the Buddha’s ‘supermarket,’ where
the ‘price’ paid is clearly positive – namely, the ‘faith’ (P. saddhā):
[341] 21. […] The Blessed One’s bazaar for all manner of merchandise, O king, is
the ninefold word of the Buddha; and the relics remaining of his body, and of the
things he used; and the sacred mounds (Ketiyāni, Dāgabas) erected over them;
and the jewel of his Order. And in that bazaar there are set out by the Blessed
One the attainment […] of high lineage, and of wealth, and of long life, and of
38
Surely, it might be possible that the text dwells on the concept that the ‘price’ to be paid is ‘negative
karma’ that the Buddha takes off from the respective buyers. In that case, which resembles the medieval
Catholic idea of ‘selling of indulgences,’ the Buddha would offer some kind of remission or ‘indulgence’;
nevertheless, this interpretation goes in several aspects ‘against the grain’ of the allegory.
39
Kammamūlaṃ gahevānā’ti pubbabuddhānaṃ santike katakusalamūlaṃ gahevā (CSD-ed.).
18 J. Schlieter
good health, […], and of Nirvāna. And of these all they who desire either the one
or the other, give Karma as the price, and so buy whichever glory they desire. And
some buy with it a vow of right conduct, and some by observance of the Uposatha
day, and so on down to the smallest Karma-price they buy the various glories
from the greatest to the least. Just, O king, as in a trader’s shop, oil, seed, and
peas and beans can be […] bought for a small price decreasing in order according
to requirement – just so, O king, in the Blessed One’s bazaar for all manner of mer-
chandise advantages are to be bought for Karma according to requirement.
‘Long life, good health, beauty, rebirth in heaven,
High birth, Nirvāna – all are found for sale –
There to be bought for Karma, great or small –
In the great Conqueror’s world-famed bazaar.
Come; show your faith, O brethren, as the price,
Buy and enjoy such goods as you prefer!’ (Rhys Davids 1894, vol. II: 229 f.)40
In this shop Bhikkhus may buy with ‘faith’ (P. saddhā). Being monks – according
to the Vinaya disallowed from handling money – the text seems to be a bit cautious
to mention money in this regard. Nevertheless, here again, positive karma is envi-
sioned as a universal means of exchange for material and immaterial goods such
as good health and even nirvāṇ a.
This use of a pecuniary metaphor in this context is indeed quite peculiar. Usually,
early Buddhist texts such as the Jarāmaraṇ asutta (S I. 71) explain that having ‘much
money and money-worth possessions’ (P. pahūtadhanadhaññā) does not help in
coping with old age and death – remember King Pasenadi’s lament quoted
above. Moreover, no one is able to take money and wealth with him into the
next life – a medieval European saying puts this nicely: ‘shrouds have no
pockets.’ It is tempting to speculate what might have had happened if the Buddhist
tradition would have employed bank-account metaphors for the workings of
karma – possibly, the qualification of money as ‘useless’ beyond one’s own life
might have become a less strict conviction.
However, while interpreting the allegory of the Buddha’s bazaars, Findly goes a
bit too far by implicitly applying the ‘bank-account’ metaphor: ‘From this store
(bank) merit can be used (spent) to enjoy (buy) a future reward’ (Findly 2003:
271). Moreover, I do not find evidence for his claim – wrongly attributed to
Richard Gombrich41 – that the ‘spiritual money on a bank account’-view is a sug-
gestion in earlier Buddhist texts, but ‘commonplace in later Pali literature’ (Findly
2003: 271). All evidence for such views is drawn from anthropological surveys (e.g.,
Spiro 1970) of modern Theravāda Buddhist societies that were, at that time, already
deeply interwoven with European culture and ideas.
To summarize the cognitive-metaphor analysis, it seems obvious that ‘buying’
certain ‘mental objects’ used in meditation practice with karma – and ‘buying’
rebirth in heaven, if not nirvāṇ a – mirrors a ‘monetized’ society. The early Buddhist
defense against money (and money metaphors) has become porous. Positive
40
The verse being in Pāli: Āyu ārogatā vaṇ ṇ aṁ saggaṁ uccākulīnatā asankhatañ–ca amataṁ atthi sabbāpaṇ e
Jine. Appena bahukenâpi kammamūlena gayhati; kiṇ itvā saddhāmūlena samiddhā hotha bhikkhavo ti (Trenckner
1880: 341, 22–25).
41
Gombrich provides two stories in this respect in which money and merit are equated (J IV.21; Dhp-A
IV.200); but, as seen above, only cautiously alluding to the ‘bank-account’ idea (cf. Gombrich 1971: 216).
Religion 19
‘karma,’ here, is no longer an ‘action’ (its literal meaning) with a certain meritorious
quality, but a means of exchange.
Furthermore, very heterogeneous objects are on sale in the Buddha’s bazaars –
mental attitudes, vows, observances, long life, and good health. In a European
setting with its strong opposition between ‘money’ on the one, and ‘worth,’
‘dignity,’ and ‘truth’ on the other side (what can be bought has no ‘intrinsic
worth’ or ‘dignity’; what has ‘worth’ – and the ‘truth,’ ‘freedom,’ etc. – shall not
be sold, cf. Hénaff 2010), one is tempted to think of witnessing a crisis of Buddhist
practice. Buddhist lay adherents as well as monks, being both addressees of the
allegory, seem to get an offer for a facilitation of their practice – since everything,
including nirvāṇ a, is for sale. Personal effort in terms of all aspects of Buddhist prac-
tice is less required than paying with ‘positive karma’ – now a ‘possession’ – and
‘faith.’
We may only speculate on the circumstances in which the Buddhist author(s) of

the Milindapañha saw themselves at (or after) the Greco-Bactrian era in North-
Western India. Certainly, there is a convergence of ‘new urbanism,’ ‘cash econom-
ies,’ and ‘teachings of merit’ (Findly 2003: 271; cp. Benavides 2004). But not only.
Significant in this respect is the introductory depiction of the ‘City of Righteous-
ness.’ Without mention of the religious diversity of this city, Nāgasena portrays
various people of many countries which have settled in this city, ranging from
Scythia, China, Kaśmīr, Gandhāra, and diverse other Indian regions up to
Bactria; even people from Alexandria took their residence here (cf. Mil 331; Rhys
Davids 1894, vol. II: 210 f.). Assuming that this city is imagined at least partially
in coherence with the author’s experienced life-world, we might conclude that
the metaphorical conceptualization of the Buddha’s teachings as a purchasable
‘product’ might be a reaction to a pluralization of religions and religious practices.
Hence, it seems possible that it even reflects Greek sacrificial practices involving the
donation of money. This interpretation given above might be summarized as
follows: no matter where you can achieve your ‘positive karma/money’ – please
visit the Buddha’s bazaar and buy yourself some – if not all – of his salvific
teachings!
Conclusion
Although scholars of Buddhism have frequently been using the ‘karma-bank’ meta-
phor, there is sufficient evidence that the metaphor itself is absent in early Buddhist
texts. After this initial absence, we could observe a second phase in the history of
mercantile metaphors which seem to emerge during – or shortly after – the
Greco-Bactrian era. In this phase, instances of an equation of merit and money
could be noted, highlighting a more commercial attitude, indeed a type of ‘spiritual
economics.’ In my eyes, it is precisely this cognitive equation that enabled and
probably engendered the concept of a ‘transfer of merit.’ Accumulated ‘merit’
must be thought of as a ‘stand-alone’ quality, as disconnected in regard to the
doer of deeds, in order to be conceptualized as transferable – such as money. In
this context, the idea of ‘buying with merit,’ as it is present in the non-canonical
Milindapañha, seems to be a radicalization (due to certain historical circumstances)
which, in the end, failed to gain ground. The same holds true for the single instance
of a conceptualization of karma as ‘debt,’ which we can find in Nāgārjuna’s prin-
ciple work. As we could see, the metaphor of ‘debt’ and the ‘promissory note’
20 J. Schlieter
was introduced for a specific purpose – to highlight a certain aspect, namely, the
‘indestructibility’ of an individual’s karma.
But nowhere in the early texts is there any mention of an actual, heavenly ‘bank
account’ of debts and deposits, nor yet a close or detailed equation of the sum of
‘accumulated karma’ (Skt. sañcita karma) with ‘money.’ Finally, a third phase can
be characterized with the coming-up of the Theravāda practice of ‘moral bookkeep-
ing’ – its earliest documented instance being part of the Mahāvaṃ sa (6th century
CE). As far as I can see, practicing Asian Buddhists borrowed the application of
the full ‘bank-account’ metaphor (with the accounting of ‘karmic debts’) from
Western interpreters of Buddhism; it could be possible, too, that they developed
it on their own, as a reflection of the introduction of the specific Western banking
system and its ‘double-entry bookkeeping.’ Whichever is true – or perhaps even
a combination of the two possibilities – must remain open, and subject to
speculation.
In my opinion it is worthwhile to question again, for the mentioned reasons, why
many Western scholars appropriated this metaphor without reluctance. In addition
to the motives discussed above, it seems to present a ‘cognitive optimum’ for
someone grounded in Western culture – because it highlights in a single cognitive
act the entire moral act-and-consequence connection. However, in regard to the
basic Judeo-Christian doctrine that God is the highest guarantee that people reap
what they sow we may point to a certain deviation from the ‘heavenly-account’
metaphor in theistic traditions: namely, the counterintuitive aspect that the ‘karma-
bank’ metaphor falls short of precisely defining the moment in which a final ‘balan-
cing’ of the account should take place. This feature of bank accounts concurs very
well with the monotheistic doctrine of an almighty god, able to ‘nullify’sins (negative
karma) by an act of unforeseeable mercy. The ‘heavenly bank account’ therefore,
seems to make good sense to Christian metaphysics, if it is assumed that the final
balancing is not in the perpetrator’s domain, i.e., it is above his reach of action. More-
over, the metaphor of balancing (a karmic) bank account is strictly soteriological, i.e.,
strongly future-oriented. It is much less a convincing explanation of past or present
karma effects. In consequence, the Buddhist doctrine of karma loses its aspect of
explaining the current status quo of all beings (and their worldly situation) which
is supposedly already an outcome of karmic efficacy.
Moreover, money, saving accounts, and banks, respectively, are human inven-
tions – cultural artifacts and institutions. The agrarian as well as the inheritance
metaphors for karma – to be found, as we could see, in the early texts – do not
figure as human inventions. Instead, they point to an understanding of some
kind of ‘natural law’ – or conditionality based in nature and ‘natural’ human
anthropology. Botanical metaphors imply that action (karma) is – ontologically –
connected to its good or bad effects that will ‘fructify,’ whereas the money meta-
phor implies that the effect of karma is a rather remote and autonomous
‘quality’; bad karma (i.e., the negative sum) – can be balanced and neutralized.
In the early Buddhist texts, however, bad karma is largely resistant to such expia-
tion or ‘nullification’ (cf. McDermott 1980: 176; cf. again, Nāgārjuna’s simile on the
indestructibility of karma). Such a worldview seemed to be rather difficult to
acknowledge for the first generations of Western scholars of Buddhism immersed
in Christian religious discourse. The persistent usage of the ‘karma-account meta-
phor,’ however, seems to point to the fact that it offers comfort and consolation to
some modern scholars, too.
Religion 21
Abbreviations
The abbreviations of Pāli texts follow the notation of the Pali Text Society.
CSD = Chaṭtḥ a Saṅ gāyana Tipiṭaka Version 4.0 (see http://www.tipitaka.org/cst4;
18.05. 2012). GRETIL = Göttingen Register of Electronic Texts in Indian Languages
(see http://gretil.sub.uni-goettingen.de/gretil.htm).
Acknowledgements
I am particularly grateful for numerous helpful comments provided by Eugen
Ciurtin – especially for directing my attention to additional sources. Advice
given by Sven Bretfeld, Oliver Freiberger, Seline Reinhardt, Roland Kübler, and
two anonymous referees, has been a great help for improving the argument.
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Submitted: December 24, 2012

Accepted: January 3, 2013
Final files received: January 9, 2013
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Checking the heavenly ‘bank account of karma’: cognitive metaphors for

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Checking the heavenly ‘bank account of karma’:

23, 3012 Bern, Switzerland

ABSTRACT To visualize the accumulation of good and bad karma in terms of

The Tathāgata approached a ferry-man to take him to the other side.

© 2013 Taylor & Francis

European constructions of the cosmic ‘karma account’

Even though the practice of moral bookkeeping, loosely described as a ‘current

of works and the legitimacy of selling indulgences.

non-proportional in relation to a ﬁnite action’ (my translation).14 Certain elements

thorough analysis of some peculiar pecuniary characteristics of spiritual economics

Conceptual metaphor theory

bined in the ‘blend’ (cf. Fauconnier and Turner 2002).

Money, metaphors, and karma in early Buddhism

metaphors regarding karma in use, namely: (1) botanical-agricultural metaphors of

Metaphors of ‘ripening’ show that the beginnings of Buddhism in an agricultural

to be donated in certain situations. Finally, heterogeneous elements (such as actions

a conceptual framework of a ‘moral economy’ (Rotman 2009: 11) at work. By donat-

of one by the other.27

Paying with karma in the Buddha’s bazaars

We may only speculate on the circumstances in which the Buddhist author(s) of

New York: Routledge.

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