Some have suggested that the Penny Priestess is not quite serious, insisting, even, that she cannot possibly be serious, that no one, no matter how “superstitious” (the actual word used), could make a religion of picking up pennies.

But why not? Is the penny faith not a “real religion” because no one has (to date, anyway) undertaken crusades, holy wars, pogroms, persecutions or inquisitions in the name of the Penny God? Is it not a real religion because there are no temples or shrines, no great monumental art, no hymns or paeans celebrating the greatness of the Penny God—nothing, indeed, but this one humble website (limited to a maximum of 2 MB)?

If the answer is yes, then by implication a god exists only by virtue of the promotional activities of his followers—a conclusion so cynical that it must be summarily rejected.

Let us consider, one by one, the standard attributes of a religion in order to examine whether the veneration of the holy, though not especially mighty, Penny God qualifies as a true religion.

The Penny God has given us two excellent commandments: Don’t be greedy. Don’t be arrogant. Surely additional commandments, such as Don’t steal, Don’t maim, Don’t murder, would be superfluous. We already know we’re not supposed to hurt people or take their stuff. Why repeat injunctions that, over the millennia, every tribe and every village have found necessary for their survival, only to falsely attribute them to divine guidance? Likewise, the Penny God does not tell us what to eat, what to drink, or how to dress. If you really require guidance on these petty concerns, there are other religions, as well as an enormous number of self-help books, to tell you what to do.

The Penny God does not forbid us to worship other gods or even to take his name in vain: you can curse your luck without (usually) fear of divine reprisals. His two modest commandments aim to help, not hinder us, in the pursuit of happiness. Let us remember that the root meaning of happy is, after all, good hap or luck. In our complacency, we have come to think of happiness as a right and not a lucky break. The Penny God’s commandments admonish us to avoid the twin evils of being dissatisfied, self-satisfied, or both at once.

The Penny Priestess recently saw a car bearing the bumper sticker, “Don’t worry: God is in control.” It was of course an SUV. One wonders whether, if the driver brakes or takes a turn too hard and the SUV overturns, as SUVs are prone to do, the consequences are still attributable to God. Those religions that proclaim their god to be all-good and all-powerful cannot offer a persuasive explanation for the presence of evil, even in its most pedestrian form of bad luck.

In contrast, because the Penny God is neither all-powerful nor all-wise nor invariably benevolent, it is self-evident that evil is part of the human condition, the default setting for existence. Good luck is the exception, the gift of the God. Whatever is good, is lucky.

The Penny God is not in control; if he were, there would be no wars, no nasty automobile accidents, no SUVs. Nor, as a trickster god, is he entirely benevolent, which is probably lucky for us. By definition, an impartially just and benevolent god would not have such an inordinate fondness for humans as to cruelly ignore the welfare of, say, beetles and termites. At the very least, such a god might deem that smiting complacent, self-centered SUV drivers with some gruesome plague would improve the lot of the luckless squirrels, skunks, raccoons, cyclists, pedestrians and armadillos who would otherwise be crushed beneath their chariot wheels.

We cannot live without hope. Or, even if we could, we don’t. We hope for a reconciliation, for a check in the mail, for recognition at last, or that no one will notice. We hope. Other religions hold out the promise of an afterlife (a good one for oneself, a bad one for one’s enemies). Instead of a future possible though not exactly guaranteed heavenly paradise, the penny religion offers us a solace in the here-and-now, frequently gratified and forever renewed: the hope, quite simply, for a bright copper penny twinkling in one’s path. There might be one—you might see it—it might make a difference—it might!

The followers of jealous gods have maliciously extirpated or mistranslated virtually all references to Token, lord of the lucky penny, in the secular and sacred writings of antiquity. His existence and his worship are nonetheless attested by frequent mentions of “a sign [i.e., Token] from heaven” as well as the many parables and proverbs concerning pennies, mites, and other small copper coins.

Some important fragments of apocalyptic prophecies, clearly attesting to the ancient worship of Token, have recently been recovered and properly translated. We have our own creation myth (and a very good one at that!) to explain why things are the way they are—as well as a hagiography and a folk tradition, detailing, with wisdom and humor, the deeds of Token and of his companions among the fallen gods who wander the earth.

Seeing that humans have slaughtered each other in endless wars and persecutions over trivial doctrinal and ceremonial differences, in his great (though non-infinite) wisdom, the Penny God has refrained from instituting rituals for his worship. He has not even stipulated, That all true believers shall pick up their pennies in the convenient way. For in his wisdom he knows full well we would soon be angrily disputing whether it is more convenient to pick up the penny with the left hand or the right, or by stooping, bending both knees, or genuflecting.

The one observance that binds us all as worshipers of the Penny God is the retrieval and treasuring of the lost, forsaken penny. This simple rite is, however, rich in meaning and in purpose. For the penny reconciles the good-versus-evil, heads-versus-tails dualism of more primitive religions within the confines of that most perfect and eternal of forms, the circle. Through this sacramental mystery we understand the essential unity of all things. By stooping (or bending or genuflecting) for the almost valueless penny, we evince our thankfulness for our luck and our shame at the wasteful arrogance that thoughtlessly discards pennies (along with paper napkins, fast food wrappers, cheap ballpoint pens and disposable lighters) as worthless for the purchasing of fast food, cheap ballpoint pens and disposable lighters.

On the subject of an afterlife, the penny religion is deliberately silent. Look honestly into your right prefrontal cortex (in traditional terms, your soul) and ask if your longing for an afterlife is any different in kind from your longing for an expensive watch or a vacation house? Is it not a product of your smoldering discontent and inner arrogance, and so a symptom of your disobedience of the Penny God’s two commandments?

Why seek assurance of an afterlife if you are incapable of valuing the here-and-now? Ask yourself this: What would you do with eternity if so much of your 77.6 years on earth is devoted to feeling angry, discontent or bored; to shopping for stuff you don’t really need, which you will throw out within six months (if it doesn’t break first); or to sitting in front of the TV numbly absorbing an average of 400 hours of commercials each year?

The Penny God urges us to live fully, humbly and appreciatively in the here-and-now. Our only thought for the hereafter should be that we not leave too much of a mess behind.

Very important! The Penny Priestess is still working on this one.

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