In the Junk Cellar

A large load of old rags and broken things had been delivered to the basement of the junk dealer today, and the newcomers were received unkindly and with surly faces in all corners.

“Please do not touch my beautiful red velvet coat with your dirty cloak,” an old armchair croaked angrily at the newly arrived old sack who was humbly pressing himself into a corner. “Once upon a time I stood in a duke’s chamber.” He swelled with pride until his joints groaned alarmingly. “You obviously haven’t picked up good manners in that noble house,” replied the quick-witted sack, and the armchair grumbled something about “coarse sack” through the gaps in his teeth.

Close to the sack a piece of blind and rusty silver trimming had nestled down. A colorful but threadbare silk dress haughtily moved away from her ungainly neighbor.

“Come over here, dear young lady,” a low whisper was heard. It came from a tiny fellow dressed in a yellow tin coat from which a thin scroll of parchment peeped out decorated with strange, smudged characters. “We will tell each other stories from the days of our youth.” [ . . . ]

The sack smoothed out its folds and cleared his throat: “Few among you have ventured as far into the world as I have. I traveled on the back of a poor young Jew; we lived as comrades through happy and evil days, good and bad times. Peddling wares from house to house was a hard way to earn a living [ . . . ] but I never heard a gruff word against another human being come from his lips; instead, there were pious prayers and holy songs, because he feared God in his heart. [ . . . ]

“It wasn’t long before my master became the son-in-law of his former host; Miriam reigned as a gracious housewife in the cozy home of one who had been homeless not so long ago.

“And he continued to honor me, the loyal witness of his poverty and homelessness; he often showed me to his children so that they would remain modest and humble.” With his rough hand the sack wiped away a wistful tear and sunk into silence, lost in old memories.

Then the little piece of silver trimming began to speak; her voice was just as rusty as her appearance: “We are landsmen, dear Sir, I also lived in the home of Joseph and Miriam.

“Today I am old, ugly and blind, but in the olden days I was the most beautiful and the most sparkling silver trimming that ever adorned a white satin hat. Yes, I occupied a proud place; it was only on the festival of Passover and on the Day of Atonement that my master pressed me on his head. I first opened my bright eyes on his wedding day, when the young bride presented me and my comrade, the long white smock, to her young husband. From this day on I accompanied Joseph through life—to his last day. [ . . . ]

“I saw the children grow, the boys and girls, and I saw the family’s prosperity blossom.

“And then one day [ . . . ] Joseph was gone. My comrades, the satin hat and the smock, accompanied him into the grave. But of all his wealth he was not allowed to take anything along, not even me, a small piece of silver trimming.

“Then I cried until I had become completely blind. How vain and worthless are money and possessions!” The old silver trimming nodded thoughtfully.

“You are so very right about that,” interjected the little yellow brass cylinder, joining the conversation. “I know about it all too well myself. I spent my life at the home of Joseph’s eldest son. Underneath my modest outer garment, I conceal the holiest prayer of the israelites, the ‘Hear, O Israel!’

“With his own hand Joseph affixed me to the doorpost of the new house when his son established his own home. I occupied the place of honor; I hung resplendently at the entrance to the stateroom, and whoever passed through the entrance reverentially put his lips to me. But as the wealth of the home increased, the reverence shown me decreased.

“One day, the lady of the house thought that I was too shabby for the stateroom and gave me a place on the door to the dining room. My new quarters were actually a lot more interesting. I saw more people, but I was hurt that my modest appearance made people overlook the holy content. Moreover, what I now got to observe made me very sad.

“What had become of the heartfelt piety and the cozy family life that the son had observed in the house of his father! I witnessed noisy celebrations, boisterous social gatherings attended by spruced-up guests who feasted and gorged on delicacies and never gave thanks to God for what they had enjoyed. [ . . . ]

“Far, far in the back, near the exit, I now occupied a humble abode; there I lived for many years.—Without God’s watchful eye nothing prospers; that would come true for this house too.

“From my far-off place I could not observe how fast the acquired wealth melted. But one day, men pushed into the house; they picked up silk cushions and precious utensils and took them away; I saw one piece after another pass by as it was carried out. The glory days were over. With her rough hand, the cook ripped me, who had once been so revered, from the doorpost and threw me on top of the rags and old junk with which you too, esteemed companions”—the brass cylinder turned to the sack and the silver trimming—“were also transported hither. Yes, that is how it goes!”

Suddenly he fell silent—the door had creaked. The junk dealer had entered the basement. The silver trimming was stuffed into a sack along with the rags; the junk dealer hoisted the whole company onto his back and carried it to the paper mill.

But the little brass cylinder rose again to a place of honor—“A mezuzah”—the junk dealer exclaimed in surprise. He picked it up carefully and fastened it to the doorpost of his cellar—and that is where you can still see it today!