Its not quite an anagram, these two words: coram deo and decorum. But their similarity can perhaps be a helpful mnemonic device to remember what is meant when we are commanded in Scripture to “laugh with those who laugh and mourn with those who mourn” (Rom. 12:15).
I.
Coram Deo means, literally, “before the face of God” and is a short-hand theological term which describes the human condition. We are living, all our days, minutes, thoughts, actions, words, hopes, desires, etc., before the living God. As the Psalmist sings:
“O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it.” (Ps. 139:1-6).
Or, as we pray in our liturgies: “Almighty God, unto whom all hearts be open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid: cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love thee, and worthily magnify thy holy name: through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
II.
Decorum means the mode of conduct and behavior proper to any given situation. It means everything from the right style of writing for a particular genre to the bed-side manner used by a doctor when delivering bad medical news to a patient, to the etiquette expected of guests as a black-tie opera event.
Decorum orchestrates the tohu wabohu (formlessness and void, cf. Gen 1:2) of human life into a shared pattern, a thing in which we can partake as a community. This thing, right here, right now.
Right now, for instance, we are going to work, and decorum helps order our energies towards that purpose. But later we will wash, bathe ourselves, and vest in merry colors, light candles, and share in a wedding feast. The decorum of the ceremony of matrimony and the ceremonies of labor are not opposed, they’re just not homogenous. We are not like God, eternal, and full of time. We cannot occupy multitudes of moments at once. Decorum helps us partake in the moment with a human community. The rites and rules and rituals and stylizations which decorum sets are supposed to be for the common flourishing of creation.
Violations of decorum are problematic because they militate against that sharing and ordering of human life. They refuse to be a part of this thing right now right here with these persons. When, for instance, Friar Tuck attacks the Sheriff of Nottingham (in the animal cartoon version —the real version of Robin Hood, of course) he does so not because he refuses to pay taxes, but because the sheriff has violated the decorum of the church by doing his collecting within its poor box. Tuck can be opposed to the high taxes but willing to comply. What he cannot abide, however is the sheriff taking from charity under the sacred fane of the parish sanctuary.
Villains always violate decorum: they laugh like Voldemort when others suffer, they fear and cower when justice comes reckoning like Captain Hook, they refuse to bow to rightful rulers as Scar refuses to bow to Mufasa, and they weep like Ahab when they don’t get the things they want. There is a perpetual haughtiness and burlesque-ish-ness about villains, they’re always out-of-sync with things.
But decorum also means knowing when and how it is appropriate to violate certain rules (manners, style-guides, grammatical laws, etiquette, customs, etc.). Nathan the prophet certainly violated certain manners of the royal court when he delivered unto King David the verdict “Thou are the man” (2 Sam. 12:7), and Albus Dumbledore violated some of the expected custom when he sat in his chintz armchair and defended Harry against unjust charges brough against him by the wizarding council. And who could be more rude than Shadrach Meshach and Abednego refusing to bow to the king’s idol (Dan. 3) —except maybe Esther, who entered into the emperor’s chamber without being summoned (Esth. 4:11)?
Well what’s going on here? If decorum is a good thing how do we know when it is right to break it? And how does it relate to all that stuff earlier about “coram deo”?
III.
Sometimes human decorum must be violated and honored at other times. The key is to keep in step with God and his fullness of time. This is the ministry principle that makes Jesus so uncanny: he never doesn’t know what to do. He moves deftly from John 2 “My hour has not yet come” to John 17 “Father the hour has come, glorify your Son” because He is living ever in God’s time.
He knows, for instance, when to pass through the hands of those who would seize him before it was time (Lk. 4:30), and when to submit, with all politeness composure and decorum, to the hands of his oppressors (Jn. 18:8).
Decorum when employed rightly organizes humans to live in time rightly. Christian decorum recognizes that all times are lived before the face of God. Decorum, for the Christian, answers the question “how shall we live before God right here in this place in this moment within the community in which I am currently embedded?”
Decorum can be, and often should be violated, when it serves to create a false reality; that is, when it casts a kind of wicked spell on the realm of human action. Christian witness declares “this is not the time or place for that” (as when Phinehas rushes into a tent with a spear, cf. Num. 25:7-13) or “this is in fact the time and place for that” (as when David tells Michal he would gladly dance again and more wildly if given the chance, cf. 2 Sam. 6:22).