Censorship: The art of the hidden and the revealed—what the cherubim taught us about holiness, mystery, and attraction
What was so erotic about the holiest place in the Temple, and why was it shown only three times a year?
Source: The hidden ritual: Opening the curtain three times a year
"When the Israelites would make the festival pilgrimage, they would roll back the curtain for them, and show them the cherubim that were intertwined with one another, and say to them: See! The love for you before the Omnipresent is like the love of male and female!"
(Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Yoma, 54a)
Explanation: The Temple paradox: Eroticism at the center of holiness
The cherubim were two golden figures, male and female, resting atop the Ark of the Covenant in the Holy of Holies—the holiest place in the Temple. According to tradition, the cherubim were "intertwined with one another"—joined in an actual sexual embrace. This was the centerpiece at the very heart of the Temple. Three times a year, on festival pilgrimages, they would roll back the curtain and show the people this sight. Not hiding it, not censoring it—showing it. "See! The love for you before the Omnipresent is like the love of male and female!" Sexual intimacy was not something to be concealed, but a representation of the bond between God and Israel. The paradox: the most erotic, most physical, most seemingly "unspiritual" thing sits right at the center of absolute holiness.
Perspective: The art of censorship: Between total concealment and total exposure
This is perhaps the most profound example of "proper" censorship in human history. The cherubim remained hidden 364 days a year. Only three times a year, for just a fleeting moment, were they revealed. Not just anyone could enter the Holy of Holies—only the High Priest, on Yom Kippur. Yet during the pilgrimage festivals, they were shown. This is deliberate, thoughtful censorship: neither total concealment (like the excommunication of Spinoza) nor total exposure (like Vanunu). It is a middle ground—preserving the secret, yet revealing it at just the right moment. There is a deep insight here: some things lose their sanctity if they are exposed all the time. The cherubim's eroticism was holy precisely because it was kept hidden. Today, in an era of 24/7 pornography, we know what happens when there is no censorship whatsoever—sexuality has lost its magic, its mystery, its holiness. The cherubim teach us: you do not have to erase everything, and you do not have to bare everything. You just need to know when to show, and when to conceal. That is art.
Going Deeper: Erotic tension: The psychology of the revealed and the hidden
In the psychology of sexuality, there is a concept known as the "erotic mystique." Studies show that sexual attraction depends on the tension between the revealed and the hidden. When everything is exposed, attraction fades. When everything is completely hidden, attraction cannot spark. The tension lives right at the threshold—in what is almost seen, but not quite. The cherubim were the ultimate realization of this principle: holy and concealed almost all year long, yet during three peak moments a year—fully revealed. The perfect balance. Not repressive censorship, but creative censorship.
Culture: The finger of God: Michelangelo and the gap that creates holiness
In art history, one of the most famous works is Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel (1512). God's finger and Adam's finger almost touch—but not quite. There is a tiny gap between them. It is this very gap that creates all the tension, all the magic. If their fingers had touched, the mystery would have vanished. If they were too far apart, there would be no intimacy. Michelangelo understood the exact same principle as the cherubim: holiness resides at the threshold between the revealed and the hidden. This painting is celebrated as one of history's greatest masterpieces, and not by accident—it expresses the very truth the cherubim represented: some things need to remain almost-revealed. Almost-touching. Censorship is not the enemy of holiness—it is its prerequisite.