Interview published in Psychologies Magazine, June 2009 —
Psychologies Magazine: You live on Rue de l'Abbaye, the bell tower of the Saint-Germain-des-Prés church serves as your backdrop, and your apartment is the former library of a monastery: religion is clearly an obsession of yours!
Frédéric Lenoir: No, I assure you it's pure coincidence! Every time I'm looking for an apartment, I stumble upon places like this. It's religion that's following me!
(His phone rings: a monastic bell)
And this choice of ringtone too, was that a coincidence?
It was the only one I found tolerable on my phone! But it's true that I like the sound of bells.
Let's turn to your current project: in your new book, you bring together three figures who have little in common, except that they are all very much in the zeitgeist: Socrates, Jesus, and Buddha. Why?
Because they are the three mentors who have most profoundly influenced my personal journey. These are three encounters I had between the ages of 13 and 20, and to whom I owe the person I am today.
How did you discover them?
My first encounter was with Socrates, when I read Plato's "Symposium." I must have been 13 or 14 years old, and I was deeply moved by the text. It made me want to read other works by Plato, and that's how I came across the account of Socrates' death. That a man could say, regarding those who condemned him to death, "They can kill me, but they cannot harm me," I found that incredibly moving. This made me reflect on the grandeur of the human soul and prompted me to question what is most essential in existence: is it money, sensual pleasure, social success, family life, friendship, or inner freedom? Secondly, I was led to discover Buddhism through various readings. I was immediately struck by the Buddha's very concrete teachings, which resonated with these same fundamental questions. Finally, thirdly, I discovered Jesus around the age of 20. Why
so late? You were raised Catholic, weren't you?
Yes, my parents were believers and practicing Catholics, but for them, faith was primarily about openness to others; they helped many people, some even lived with us for a while… This gave me a positive image of Christianity, but at the same time, there was the catechism and its ready-made definitions, which seemed absurd to me. At the age of 10 or 12, I stopped going to church. Philosophy and Buddhism took over in my existential questions. Until one day, having decided to spend a few days meditating in an old Cistercian abbey in Brittany, I came across the Gospel of John. Like the words of Socrates and Buddha, the words of Jesus struck me deeply. But even more than that: Jesus touched my heart. It was a thunderous emotion. I cried for hours without knowing why. That was over 25 years ago, and since then, these three guiding lights have been with me. Jesus is different from others: I speak to him as one speaks to an invisible being with whom one has a personal relationship. That is why I can say: I am a Christian.
Christian, but within a syncretism…
Not in the sense of an incoherent mix. I would rather speak of synthesis, meaning that I establish a hierarchy among these different messages. Buddhism offers me a certain philosophy of existence; it teaches me detachment and the observation of my emotions. Socrates is more of an awakener; when I think of him, I tell myself, "Know thyself, and at the same time know that you know nothing." He teaches me to remain humble. As for Jesus, he is a presence that dwells within me.
How is this "synthesis" practiced?
I try to begin my day with fifteen minutes of meditation, as I learned it 25 years ago in India from the Tibetans. It provides mental calm and a connection between body and mind that also helps me to pray. I rarely attend church. I am an aesthete, and the lack of beauty in the liturgy offends me. I don't always sense enough authenticity from priests and parishioners either; I often feel it's all very mechanical. It's only in monasteries that I truly feel at ease. I sometimes spend a few days there, and it's always a real source of renewal. I also enjoy Orthodox Masses, which are more vibrant. The chants and the decorations move me: the incense, the icons…
You have a very individualistic approach to religion!
What can you expect? I'm a child of my time!
Religion also has a social and public function: as its etymology suggests, it consists of connecting—not only with God, but with other believers.
I don't deny this collective dimension of religion, and I understand that many people need to share their faith. Personally, when I find myself in the middle of a congregation where I feel comfortable, I'm very happy. But I can also feel this collective emotion at a concert or a football match! It arises almost everywhere as soon as individuals are connected to one another by something greater than themselves. But that's not the emotion I'm looking for. Like philosophy, religion plays a role in my life as part of a personal quest for meaning and a better life.
Given what's happening today—between the Pope's pronouncements and the interreligious conflicts—it's more comfortable to present oneself as a "solitary Christian" rather than a practicing Catholic…
It's not at all for convenience! If I were truly connected to the Church and attached to its dogmas, I would affirm without shame that I am Catholic… even if it meant admitting that I don't always agree with the Pope! But today, I only feel Catholic because of the education I received—which I don't disavow—and my association with great mystics, like Meister Eckhart, John of the Cross, and Thérèse of Lisieux. I am undoubtedly more Protestant in my personal way of living the faith and Orthodox in my liturgical sensibilities. And above all, I try to be a disciple of Christ, even if I am very far from being able to put his teachings into practice!
Have you ever considered a religious vocation?
The priesthood didn't interest me at all, but I was drawn to the absolute. While pursuing my philosophy studies, I went to live in the monastery where my best friend had just entered, and I also lived in a hermitage for several months. These were powerful and difficult experiences, and I came away understanding that I wasn't cut out for it! I need moments of solitude, but I'm also a communicative person who needs to connect with others through sensitivity and emotion.
Your approach is, in fact, spiritual and not religious…
Absolutely. And for me, all the great spiritual and philosophical paths lead to a common goal: to live life to the fullest, without closed-mindedness. We are all marked by fears, anxieties, and emotional blockages linked to our personal history. "Everything is suffering," said the Buddha. The essential thing is that this suffering doesn't lead us to withdraw into ourselves, fearing others and life itself. For me, the essence of spiritual life is teaching us to say "yes" to life, to accept everything that comes, so that we can live fully, rather than just survive. And the whole journey of life is about moving from fear to love.
It sounds like you're talking about psychoanalysis…
I did undergo psychoanalysis! About fifteen years ago, for five years, following my divorce. This work was a significant moment of self-awareness. But therapeutically, what brought me the most were the Gestalt and Rebirth workshops I did afterward. I relived repressed painful emotions—including episodes from my embryonic life. But if I did all of this, it was always within the framework of a Socratic process of self-discovery. I've never truly wandered. I've always followed this spiritual path without knowing where it would lead me, but always seeking to evolve, to know myself better, and to transform. With a very pronounced critical mind, but without ever closing the door to intuition, to the heart, to the imagination.
How can such a spiritual approach help us today?
Two systems are revealing their serious shortcomings: the materialistic, mercantile system and the dogmatic religious system. The former can be renewed, notably through more moderate, socially responsible, and environmentally conscious acts of consumption. As for the second crisis, it invites us not to invent a new religion, but, I believe, to return to the sources. To take Christianity as an example, the Gospels are a treasure that has not aged a day, whereas Benedict XVI's discourse is worn to the bone and does not meet the true spiritual needs of our contemporaries.
Isn't it risky to embark on this path alone?
It's a question of balance. It is indeed important to have guides, to meet more advanced individuals, and sometimes to join a community. This has happened at several key moments in my journey. But it also seems important to me to know when to leave behind the security of certainties, the comforting clan… We must distance ourselves from what we have been taught in order to appropriate religion through personal discernment. Otherwise, we risk becoming complacent in the reproduction of external religious gestures that do nothing to help the individual complete their inner work.
This makes the individual the architect of their own spirituality…
I would say rather the author or creator of their own life. To exist is a fact, to live is an art. I would add that while the individual is fundamentally alone in their quest, they always need others to move forward, to share, to connect. Spirituality must above all allow us to learn to love, and this cannot be done without others! But for centuries we've become so accustomed to thinking that being Christian means being baptized and going to Mass that we've almost forgotten the heart of Jesus' universalist message, which is love for others and the personal search for truth. To the Samaritan woman who asks him whether God should be worshipped in Jerusalem, as the Jews claim, or on the mountain of Samaria, as the Samaritans do, Jesus replies: neither! We must "worship God in spirit and in truth, because God is spirit." The true temple, where we encounter God, is the mind and heart of the human being. The religious culture to which one belongs is then irrelevant.
Each of your books, essays, or novels sells hundreds of thousands of copies worldwide, your play is sold out… What is the key to your success?
Perhaps simply because the quest I have been pursuing for over thirty years resonates with current expectations. Many people are searching for something other than what consumer society or religious institutions offer them. There is the search for a good and just life, which can involve psychological work or various philosophical and spiritual encounters.
So you are rather optimistic…
I am a tragic optimist! Death is unbearable and life is full of suffering, but it can offer us great joys, and we can achieve lasting happiness and ultimately accept our mortality. Human beings often behave selfishly, even cruelly, but each individual has within them forces of goodness just waiting to be expressed. We are going through a difficult period; we are creating a global civilization riddled with ecological and ideological risks. But isn't this also an opportunity to overcome our differences stemming from fears and cultural clashes, in order to discover what unites us? I truly believe we can move towards a civilization that embraces the richness of diversity, rooted in profound humanism. The real divide is not between believers and non-believers, or between the Western world and the Muslim world. It is between those who respect human beings and those who do not.
What do we still need to achieve this?
Undoubtedly, each individual must accept the need for transformation. We must move beyond a logic of obedience—to dogmas, to advertising slogans—and embrace a logic of responsibility and discernment. This requires education and knowledge that combines science, philosophy, and spirituality. It is because individuals transform themselves, become more conscious and awakened, that the world will improve.
Interview by Anne-Laure Gannac.