Above the Ark, where the Shekhinah rested, stood the two golden cherubim. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Exodus 37:9 describes them with a precision that borders on reverence: the kerubaia spread forth their wings, with their heads upward, overshadowing the mercy seat with their wings, and their faces were toward each other, over against the mercy seat were the faces of the kerubaia.
The Targum uses the Aramaic kerubaia — the angelic plural — to mark their status. These were not decorative birds. They were, in some mysterious sense, representatives of the angels who guard the throne of glory. The same word appears at the eastern gate of Eden, where cherubim stand with the flaming sword (Genesis 3:24). The same word appears in Ezekiel's vision of the divine chariot (Ezekiel 10). And here, on the Ark, they are present again, wings spread, faces turned toward each other.
Their posture is the Targum's focus. Heads upward — they look toward heaven, toward the source. Wings overshadowing — they protect what lies below, the kapporet, the mercy seat, the place where God's voice spoke to Moses (Exodus 25:22). Faces toward each other — they regard one another, not the worshipper, not even the high priest. Their attention is inward, sealed in mutual relationship.
The rabbis read this posture as a model of holy community. Holiness between two beings facing each other is stronger than holiness addressed to an onlooker. The cherubim were not performing devotion. They were in it, and the Shekhinah dwelt between them — between the two cherubim, as 1 Samuel 4:4 later phrases it.
The takeaway: the deepest holiness in Judaism happens between two beings turned toward each other. God's presence does not settle on a lone figure or a watching crowd. It settles in the space between two faces that regard each other in love.