Our Gemara on Amud Beis (through the following daf) records a dispute between Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Akiva regarding an idol that was crafted but not yet worshipped. According to Rabbi Yishmael, a gentile’s object of idol worship is not prohibited until it is worshipped, but a Jew’s object of idol worship is prohibited immediately. According to Rabbi Akiva, a gentile’s object of idol worship is prohibited immediately, but a Jew’s object of idol worship is not forbidden until it is worshipped.

The Gemara goes through various proof texts for each position, but what is the metaphysical meaning behind these distinctions between the item before or after worship, and between gentile versus Jew?

The Maharal (Derashos, Derush Al Hamitzvos 18) explains that there is a natural draw and affinity of the similar in nature and spirituality. The gentile is predisposed to idolatry while the Jew is naturally drawn toward a direct relationship with God. Therefore, even when a Jew crafts an idol, it is not considered fait accompli that it will be worshipped; perhaps he will have a last-minute change of heart. That is why Rabbi Akiva holds that a crafted idolatrous deity of a Jew does not become forbidden until it is actually worshiped. On the other hand, there’s a standing assumption that the gentile will worship the object, and therefore, even when it is just crafted for the purpose, it already becomes forbidden.

Maharal does not explain how Rabbi Yishmael understands this. I believe Rabbi Yishmael might agree in principle to what the Maharal stated, but psychologically the opposite reaction occurs. Because the Jew is not naturally drawn toward idolatry, once he takes the extraordinary step of crafting the idol, he is “all in,” so to speak. He built up such an elaborate rationale and system to go contrary to his religion of birth that he will not easily back away from the cliff and admit his wrongdoing. Once he starts, he will keep rationalizing.

On the other hand, for the gentile it is no big deal. He could craft the statue and worship it, or just as easily change his mind and use it as a decoration in his garden. It’s not a big deal to him. He’s not invested because it’s part of the background noise.

This is a fascinating psychological idea that we see playing itself out in other situations as well. In any religion, the convert is often more fervent than the established worshipper. He worked so hard to reach his point and will not easily accept anything less. In history, some of the most notorious antisemites and persecutors of Jews were themselves apostates.

For example, it is believed that the Grand Inquisitor, Tomas de Torquemada was of Jewish ancestry. Vladimir Lenin also had Jewish ancestry. Going back to Biblical times, Sancherib’s “propaganda” officer Ravshakeh, Chizkiyahu’s nemesis, also was Jewish. A similar kind of psychology is at play: In order to maintain the rationalization and go against one’s spiritual inclination, or at least a certain cultural legacy, one has to fight extra hard to overcome the internal conflict. Therefore, externally, it comes across as zealotry. This can explain why, according to Rabbi Yishmael, the Jew who fashions the idol is even more likely to carry through with worshiping it than the gentile.

(SOURCES: Wikipedia – Tomas de Torquemada, The Moscow Times – Lenin’s Jewish Roots on Display, Yeshayahu 36:11, Rashi, and Sanhedrin 60a.)

There is a similar psychology operating in a different Talmudic story found in Sukkah (52a):

Abaye once overheard a couple conspiring to meet up: “Let us rise early and go on the road.” Upon hearing this, Abaye said to himself: “I will go and accompany them and prevent them from violating the prohibition that they certainly intend to violate.” He went after them for a distance of three parasangs in a marsh among the reeds, while they walked on the road, and they did not engage in any wrongful activity. When they were taking leave of each other, he heard them saying: “We traveled a long distance together, and the company was pleasant company.”

Abaye said: “In that situation, if instead of that man it had been me, I would not have been able to restrain myself from sinning.”

After becoming aware of so great a shortcoming, he went and leaned against the doorpost, thinking and feeling regret. A certain elder came and taught him:

“Anyone who is greater than another, his evil inclination is greater than his.”

Abaye reflected: If he were in that position, he would be overcome with desire and would not be able to hold himself back from acting upon it. What was the difference between him and that young couple? The answer is, they probably had been together many times and it was part of their lifestyle. This particular time, the young couple, who was not particularly chaste, had a relaxed attitude and chose a more modest form of contact and intimacy.

But Abaye, who was not accustomed to sinning, if he found himself in a position where he started down that road, it would have been much harder for him to put on the brakes. This is similar to our understanding of Rabbi Yishmael: The Jew who crafts the idol in order to worship it, is already deep into his rationalization mode and will have a hard time not following through.

One final point: The entire story in Sukkah can be seen as a metaphor as well. The chaste relationship that the young couple had could be described as the relationship between the body and the soul. The soul needs the body as a vehicle to accomplish things in this world, and therefore must, to some extent, develop a good working relationship with the world—being able to enjoy the pleasures of this world in a balanced way. To eat, drink, form relationships, and raise families is part of physical life.

At the end, though, the body and soul are not the same and will eventually separate. The soul says to the body, as the young lovers said to each other: “We traveled a long distance together, and the company was pleasant company.” This modest parting of the ways, which still acknowledges the love and the good times experienced together, signifies a dignified death, with the the soul leaving the body at peace, knowing that they worked well together.

This metaphor adds another layer of understanding to the story of Abaye, as well as to Rabbi Yishmael’s view. Once the body (or the Jew in the case of idolatry) takes the extraordinary step to engage in something against its natural inclination, the commitment and rationalizations are often so deep that pulling back becomes nearly impossible.

It is a reminder of the powerful role that rationalization plays in human behavior, especially when we step far outside our normative spiritual, ethical, or cultural boundaries. Recognizing this tendency is key, because awareness can create the space to re-evaluate our decisions before we get carried away by the momentum of justification.