The more you look, the greater the possibility that you’ll find something troubling when it comes to money itself.
For example, the back side of our $1 bill contains symbols that may well reflect freemasonry, a network of organizations practicing oaths, secret handshakes, symbol-laden rings, and even ceremonial clothing.
How do you feel about having our government implicitly endorse a secret society that excludes women from its membership?
The Treasurer of the United States, an appointment traditionally reserved for a woman and whose signature appears on the other side of the bill, could never be affiliated except in the Eastern Star auxiliary! Even so, George Washington was a Mason, as were many other Founding Fathers – and as are many of the people working in the U.S. Printing Office today. Ask any Masons you know about the Great Pyramid and see how they respond; the reaction is informative.
Reexamine these emblems, often hinting at immortality: these secular temples, animals, gods, or America’s blatant slogan, “In God we trust.”
Exactly how do you feel about these images and mottoes?
Should we, like strict Jews of Jesus’ day, be offended and outraged?
Do we usually look the other way?
Can we defend and support their placement on our currency?
Return to the faces on American currency: nearly all are males, usually a president or Founding Father. A matter of patriarchy, one might assume. Notably, the one piece of currency that failed dramatically in recent times carried the likeness of a woman. First time around, the dollar coin honored a woman of Quaker upbringing; she was not a politician, but rather a social reformer: Susan B. Anthony. Later, the government tried Native American Sacagawea, to no greater success. Ask why the president’s wives are not on our currency, and you may be told: “Because they weren’t the heads of state.” Perhaps that, too, is why our currency features Caesar-like renderings rather than animals or landscapes unique to our nation. Caesar reappears, under new guise; we simply hadn’t recognized him.
In news reports on plans to redesign American currency, came this: “Because the pictures of Washington, Lincoln, and Hamilton will be twice as big as they are now, the government will prepare new engravings filled with more fine lines and details. The pictures will be easily recognizable to the public, but harder for counterfeiters to reproduce. New portraits will still be serious and statesmanlike. ‘You won’t see a grinning Ben Franklin,’ a Treasury official said.” That is, serious Saturn rather than playful Puer (youth) holds sway.
Moreover, as you tally these figures, see how many were Army generals, commander-in-chief during wartime, slaveholders, or representative of the great Western expansion.
Savor the irony, too, that the figurehead on our $50 bill went bankrupt in business, while the one on our $100 bill – despite his reputation for Poor Richard’s Almanac – was a spendthrift.
This linkage to heads of state leads you directly into one crucial fact that is easily overlooked: in many functions, money is government! The two are so closely intertwined that they become inseparable. If the government falls, so does its currency; remember what happened to Confederate money as the American Civil War concluded. Or inspect this linkage: the condition of the economy is the pivotal factor deciding the election of an American president; if it’s good, the incumbent party will remain in office. And if it’s weak, expect change. Perhaps all the classical symbolism on our currency simply expresses a hope our system of government will be eternal – disclosing why “in God we trust”!