Our Gemara on amud aleph discusses the evidence that a storekeeper may use from his writings on his ledger. The Gemara’s term for this ledger is a “pinkas.” My father Z”L, who was a scholar in Torah and learned in Greek and Latin, always took pains to correctly pronounce the Greek words in the Gemara. What we Yeshivishe folk call a pinkas is actually a pinaks (πίναξ), a kind of tablet that used beeswax as a base, so one can carve temporary notes (such as a storekeeper’s ledger), which then can be erased for reuse after melting the wax. (An ancient etch-a-sketch.) We will return to discuss the significance of the writing being temporary a bit later.

One of the most famous usages of the pinaks in rabbinic literature is the allegory about life in this world, found in Avos (3:16):

Everything is given against a pledge, and a net is spread out over all the living; the store is open and the storekeeper allows credit, but the ledger (pinaks) is open and the hand writes, and whoever wishes to borrow may come and borrow; but the collectors go round regularly every day and exact dues from man, either with his consent or without his consent, and they have that on which they [can] rely [in their claims], seeing that the judgment is a righteous judgment, and everything is prepared for the banquet.

The ledger and the storekeeper is God, tracking a person’s deeds, credits, and debits. We note that here a temporary writing tablet is used, yet in the allegory about judgment on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, a more permanent scroll is used (Rosh Hashanah 16b):

Three books are opened on Rosh HaShana before the Holy One, Blessed be He: One of wholly wicked people, and one of wholly righteous people, and one of middling people whose good and bad deeds are equally balanced. Wholly righteous people are immediately written and sealed for life; wholly wicked people are immediately written and sealed for death; and middling people are left with their judgment suspended from Rosh HaShana until Yom Kippur, their fate remaining undecided. If they merit, through the good deeds and mitzvot that they perform during this period, they are written for life; if they do not so merit, they are written for death.

I believe that the books that are opened on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are the more permanent decree and judgment of our fate for the rest of our lives or death, be that as it may. The parable in Avos is referring to a person’s day-to-day actions and merits, and therefore subject to constant recording and revision.

I will conclude with a modern-day rendering of the same allegory:
 

Rabbi Mordechai Elefant, the late Rosh Yeshiva and founder of the ITRI yeshiva, dictated a candid memoir of his eclectic life experiences as a Rosh Yeshiva, investor-entrepreneur, and fundraiser. His travels took him far and wide, as he engaged with fellow Roshei Yeshiva, but also secular statesmen, and assorted famous and not-so-famous shady characters in his various efforts on behalf of his yeshiva and other causes. 

(You can download this fascinating read at: https://forum.otzar.org/download/file.php?id=88463. 

This is no hagiographic exercise. It’s at once inspiring, disturbing, and brutally honest.)

He relates a remarkable story that is apropos to this parable:

I walked in one morning and saw Rav Leib Malin himself, repairing a toilet. He noticed the look on my face and realized that I thought that what he was doing was not in keeping with his dignity. He sat me down and told me the secret of his life.

He said, “Let me tell you something I heard in the name of Rav Simcha Zissel of Kelm:

‘God keeps very exact accounts of what we take from this world. We don’t get anything for free, other than life itself. Any person who is the least bit honest with himself understands how unworthy he is. At the same time, he’s running up a big debt. Nothing is free—not a sip of water, not a breath of air.’

‘How do we stand a chance? There’s only one way. You have to view life as a big, luxury hotel. They’re charging you left and right. It’s great, but there’s going to be a huge bill when you check out. There’s only one guy who enjoys the delights of the hotel without paying. That’s the waiter. The waiter is devoted to serving others. He’s always smiling and ready to help. He is at the beck and call of the guests. He runs to help one, and then runs to help the other. But when he takes a break, he can go into the kitchen and make himself a sandwich with two thick steaks in it. Nobody looks, nobody cares, nobody charges him. That’s what you have to do. Be a waiter. Devote your life to serving others. Do whatever has to be done, then at the end you won’t be hit with a big tab.’”