France’s new Prime Minister, Sébastien Lecornu, has already made headlines just days into his tenure—not for a sweeping policy or political shakeup, but for a greeting that’s left the country both charmed and curious. Instead of the customary French “bises”—those two, three, or even four kisses on the cheeks exchanged in offices and homes across the nation—Lecornu has been spotted greeting his male colleagues with gentle temple-to-temple head-butts. It’s a gesture that’s as unusual as it is personal, and it has the French media buzzing about what it reveals of the man now occupying one of the country’s most powerful posts.
Lecornu, a loyal ally of President Emmanuel Macron and until recently the nation’s defense minister, officially took office as Prime Minister on September 10, 2025, according to Le Monde and the Associated Press. At just 39 years old, he’s already stepping into the role with a style all his own. As noted by Le Monde, his first days at Matignon—the official residence of France’s premiers—were marked by a series of these gentle, almost ceremonial head-bumps. Male colleagues, including outgoing Foreign Minister Jean-Noël Barrot and senior presidential aide Patrice Faure, received the temple-to-temple greeting, while female colleagues such as Catherine Vautrin and Rachida Dati were welcomed with the more traditional two-cheek “bises.”
This distinctive habit, it turns out, is rooted in Lecornu’s past—specifically, a formative period as a teenager spent at Saint-Wandrille Abbey, a Benedictine monastery nestled in the Normandy region northwest of Paris. The abbey, home to about 30 monks, is steeped in centuries-old traditions. According to Le Monde and the Associated Press, it was here that Lecornu, then just 16, seriously considered a monastic life. The experience left its mark, shaping not just his outlook but his very way of connecting with others.
French publications have been quick to draw the link between Lecornu’s greeting and the customs of the Benedictine monks. Jean-Louis Langlois, a civilian volunteer at Saint-Wandrille Abbey, explained the gesture to the Associated Press: “Tilting your head to the right, and the temple touches that of the other, on the side of the face, at the moment when we exchange a sign of peace. It is a very beautiful gesture.” In monastic tradition, this temple-to-temple contact, known as an accolade, is a sign of unity and peace—an echo of the centuries-old Rule of St. Benedict, which has guided the order since 529 AD.
Lecornu himself has been reticent to discuss the spiritual motivations behind his greeting. The French are discovering a prime minister who is, by nature, discreet. When pressed on the subject during a 2024 appearance on France Television’s “Quelle époque !” chat show, Lecornu took a deep breath before admitting, “I don’t like to talk about it, but it’s true,” when asked whether he had considered becoming a Benedictine monk. The show’s host, Léa Salamé, followed up, suggesting that what moved him most was the monks’ manner of greeting, forehead to forehead. Lecornu replied, “Oh, not just that. I had a moment in my adolescent life, a period of discernment, as we say, but which is a very intimate period. I don’t really like talking about that because, for one, I represent the state as a minister and the state is neutral. And so I am a great defender of secularism.” He added, “Since you asked me the question: Yes, when I was 16.”
His reluctance is understandable. In France, the principle of laïcité—strict secularism in public life—is a cornerstone of political identity. As Lecornu himself pointed out, “I represent the state as a minister and the state is neutral.” For a politician, especially one in such a visible role, the line between personal spirituality and public duty is a delicate one. Yet, in this case, Lecornu’s gentle head-butts have served to humanize him in the public eye, offering a rare glimpse into the private convictions of a leader who otherwise prefers to keep his cards close to his chest.
The Benedictine order, which Lecornu once considered joining, is the oldest religious order in the Latin rite Catholic Church. Its members are known for their contemplative lifestyle, guided by the teachings of St. Benedict of Norcia. The order’s traditions have influenced Catholic rituals for centuries; at Mass, for instance, priests sometimes exchange the sign of peace with a temple-to-temple gesture or a modified kiss-kiss—an echo of the very greeting that Lecornu has brought into the halls of French government.
According to the Associated Press, the temple-to-temple accolade is not just reserved for monks. In Catholic liturgy, variations of the greeting are performed when priests exchange the sign of peace, often grabbing forearms and leaning in side to side in a way that avoids direct contact—a kind of stylized, air-kiss greeting. Lecornu’s adaptation of this gesture, then, is both deeply personal and subtly symbolic, blending his spiritual past with the demands of public office.
For many in France, the sight of their new prime minister greeting colleagues with an accolade is both endearing and thought-provoking. It’s a reminder that even in the highest echelons of power, personal history and private conviction can leave their mark. As French media outlets continue to analyze Lecornu’s every move, some see his greeting as a sign of authenticity in a political landscape often criticized for its formality and distance.
But there are also those who wonder about the implications of such a gesture in a secular republic. For a country fiercely protective of the separation between church and state, Lecornu’s embrace of a monastic tradition—even in so small a way—raises questions about the boundaries of personal expression in public life. Yet, for now, the consensus seems to be one of curiosity rather than controversy.
As Lecornu settles into his new role, the French public will no doubt continue to scrutinize his policies, his alliances, and—yes—his greetings. But for now, his gentle head-butts have offered a rare and revealing window into the man behind the title. They speak of a leader shaped by tradition, guided by personal reflection, and unafraid to bring a touch of the monastic into the modern world of politics. In a country where ritual and symbolism still matter, that’s no small thing.
With his unique greeting, Sébastien Lecornu has reminded France that even the most powerful among us carry traces of our past, and sometimes, those traces are what make us most human.
