The link between narcissism and religion or spirituality is more complicated than it first appears. When I first began thinking about these topics, I assumed religious practice was, almost by definition (i.e., reconnecting to something greater), a strategy or technology for reducing ego. The point of practice, I thought, was to shrink the ego in order to connect more deeply with others. Eihei Dōgen famously wrote, “To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be enlightened by the ten thousand things.” That was the model in my head.
But it turns out my intuition was wrong, or at least incomplete. Narcissism has a complex relationship with religion and spirituality, with much depending on the definitions of narcissism and religion. But the general pattern is that narcissism will be associated with using religion and spirituality as a strategy for meeting ego needs, especially social status, attention, and power. Narcissists want to feel powerful, knowledgeable, important, and special—and many religious or spiritual practices can do that. Note: I am using the terms religion and spirituality somewhat interchangeably to refer to practices that engage with non-ordinary states of awareness or beings.
We can begin with some definitions. In this essay I am primarily focusing on narcissism as a personality trait—everyone has some level of narcissism, but some more than others. Several forms of trait narcissism are studied in the literature. Grandiose narcissism, which contains a sense of self-importance and entitlement along with an extraverted and sometimes charismatic personality, is the most commonly studied form of narcissism. The central motivation for grandiose narcissism is self-enhancement, that is, defending and increasing the positivity of the self. We also have communal narcissism, which is the more socially integrated form of narcissism. Grandiose narcissism is about being more clever, attractive, or important than others; communal narcissism is about being more moral, caring, or “good.” And finally, there is vulnerable narcissism, which is much more about ego defensiveness.
At the extremes, narcissism moves from being a trait to a disorder. At the pathological end, this is known as narcissistic personality disorder, or NPD.
My review covers a range of topics, but the overall theme is that sometimes religion and spirituality—and that includes religious beliefs, practices, and leadership—become aligned with self-enhancement or ego needs, and this alignment fuses narcissism and religion. This fusion can be modest, like a moralistic “Church Lady” with elevated communal narcissism; or an enlightened-in-his-own-mind spiritual seeker with elevated grandiose narcissism; or it can be a dangerous, messianic cult leader with more pathological levels of narcissism.
The review begins with narcissism and more everyday religious orientation and spiritual practice. Next, I move into narcissism and religious leadership: do narcissists rise to power in religious settings? Then I move into a more depth psychology perspective of spiritual inflation and what is essentially archetypal possession. I end with some reflections on spiritual humility.
Narcissism and Extrinsic Religious Orientation
Religion can serve multiple purposes. One of the big distinctions going back to Gordon Allport in psychology is between intrinsic and extrinsic religious orientations.
Intrinsic religiosity reflects internalized commitment. Religion is an end in itself. It is integrated into identity and guides life from within. Intrinsic items include statements like, “My whole approach to life is based on my religion.” Someone who is deeply intrinsically religious “lives their faith.”
The effect sizes are typically modest, but the basic idea is that if you use religion as a social performance, it is more likely to be associated with narcissism than if you use religion as a personal guide
Extrinsic religiosity treats religion as a means to other ends—comfort, status, belonging, security, or social capital. Extrinsic items include, “What religion offers me most is comfort in times of trouble” and “I go to church because it helps me to make friends.” Someone who is more extrinsically religious practices their faith when it suits them.
Note, these are motivational orientations toward religion that are not mutually exclusive. Individuals can have both extrinsic and intrinsic orientations toward their religious practices.
One of my favorite examples of a more extrinsic religious orientation is “prosperity theology” that promises wealth and happiness to followers. I always thought this sounded a little strange, but one day I found myself flying in first class next to the music director for a famous prosperity preacher in the South. I asked him about it, and he said, “Do you want your children to be financially successful?” I said, “Of course.” He said, “Well, you are God’s child, and he wants you to be wealthy too.” He had a point.
When researchers examined grandiose narcissism in relation to these religious orientations, a consistent pattern emerged. Grandiose narcissism tends to show small-to-moderate positive associations with extrinsic religiosity and weak or sometimes negative associations with intrinsic religiosity (Watson et al., 1984; Watson et al., 1987). The effect sizes are typically modest, but the basic idea is that if you use religion as a social performance, it is more likely to be associated with narcissism than if you use religion as a personal guide.
Measuring Spiritual Superiority
So if narcissists are using religion a little more extrinsically, it is likely to be associated with self-enhancement or feeling superior to others. This is the basic pattern with narcissism and the social world; everything—work, love, faith, family—gets put into the service of self-enhancement.
Recent research has looked directly at narcissistic self-enhancement in religion, focusing on inflated spiritual and religious self-views. Vonk and Visser (2021) developed the Spiritual Superiority scale to assess better-than-average beliefs in the spiritual domain. The items are explicitly comparative: “I am more aware of what is between heaven and earth than most people,” “I am more in touch with my senses than most others,” and “The world would be a better place if others also had the insights I have now.”
They also assessed what they termed self-proclaimed Spiritual Guidance—the tendency to position oneself as someone who enlightens or guides others.
Spiritual superiority showed a moderately strong association with communal narcissism (r = .47) and smaller associations with self-esteem (r = .17). Communal narcissism refers to exaggerated self-views in the domain of morality and prosociality—the belief that one is uniquely compassionate, ethical, or caring. It is narcissism expressed through moral superiority.
Vonk and Visser (2021) also reported that participants affiliated with more “energetic” spiritual training contexts—groups emphasizing activation, intense experiences, or paranormal themes—tended to score higher on spiritual superiority than those affiliated with more mindfulness-oriented contexts. This was based on comparisons across naturally occurring training environments rather than experimental manipulation. The broader implication is ecological: spiritual cultures differ in how much they reward being special.
Given my own ego and extraversion, I am drawn to energy practices. I remember being in one large Wim Hof training where maybe 70 people were lying on yoga mats doing intense breathwork (aka pranayama). Just as the practice ended, a woman shouted out, “Did anyone else enter the astral plane?” and a bunch of us started laughing. And then everyone jumped in ice baths. It was really fun, but I do not think a lot of ego was being reduced.
Yoga, Meditation, Spiritual Practice, and Self-Enhancement
One of the more provocative findings on narcissism and spirituality comes from research on yoga and meditation. In a series of longitudinal and experimental studies, Gebauer et al. (2018) examined engagement in mind–body practices and measures of self-enhancement. They found that increases in yoga and meditation practice were associated with increases in self-enhancement over time, particularly communal narcissism and better-than-average beliefs.
These findings were surprising to many—as I noted up front, religious and spiritual practices were traditionally associated with ego reduction or “quieting the ego.” Fortunately, they were directly replicated by Vaughan-Johnston et al. (2021), so surprising or not they seem reliable.
The takeaway is not that spiritual or religious practice will turn you into a pathological narcissist. Instead, ego and pride are sneaky things. A person’s spiritual practice can be incorporated into their existing self-enhancement framework. As spiritual practice becomes part of your identity, enhancing that spiritual identity can feed your ego, just like any other identity can. Rock star, priest, or politician—if you find yourself craving the limelight, your ego is probably involved.
Narcissism in Religious Leadership
Where narcissism gets amplified is in leadership positions. In secular organizations, grandiose narcissism is often associated with leadership emergence, especially in loosely structured or unstable environments. Narcissistic individuals are confident, dominant, and comfortable claiming authority. At moderate levels, these traits can enhance perceived charisma, although extreme narcissism can backfire in different ways (e.g., Campbell & Campbell, 2009; Grijalva et al., 2015).
In explicitly religious contexts, the association between narcissism and leadership looks intact. Zondag (2005) conducted empirical studies assessing narcissism among pastors in the Netherlands. Using established narcissism measures, he found meaningful variation in narcissistic traits within clergy samples. Some clergy displayed elevated grandiose traits such as self-importance and desire for admiration; others showed more vulnerable features linked to defensiveness and self-protection.
Where narcissism gets amplified is in leadership positions. In secular organizations, grandiose narcissism is often associated with leadership emergence, especially in loosely structured or unstable environments.
Zondag (2006) also examined motivations for entering the pastorate. For some individuals, the role represented service and calling. For others, it offered recognition, authority, and a central social position. The broader conclusion is not that clergy are uniquely narcissistic, but that religious leadership roles, like secular ones, can attract individuals comfortable with visibility and influence.
Institutional structure likely matters as well. Highly performative, personality-driven congregations may provide more opportunities for charismatic expression. More bureaucratic or hierarchical traditions may constrain overt grandiosity. Basically, the more a religious service is like a live performance, the more likely you are to find narcissistic leaders.
One study examined tolerance for narcissistic leaders in Christian churches (Dunaetz et al., 2018). As you might expect by now, larger congregations had more tolerance for narcissistic leaders than small congregations.
The result of a narcissistic church leader can be complex but is often toxic in the long run. In the short term, you might see high levels of charisma that help fill seats. But over time, with a narcissistic church leader, you are likely to see greater interpersonal conflict, infidelity, financial mismanagement, and excessive risk-taking (e.g., Puls, 2020).
Archetypal Experience and Inflation
Thus far, we have been discussing the more normal manifestation of narcissism in religious and spiritual contexts. I wanted to close by talking about more extreme spiritually-induced ego expansion. This phenomenon goes beyond normal personality psychology.
At times, individuals can have powerful spiritual experiences and then identify with those experiences. Identification has a specific meaning in depth psychology; it means to be one and the same as. “I felt the presence of God” becomes “I am God.” As a result of this identification, spiritual practitioners may inflate their ego instead of transcending it.
Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung described this process as ego inflation: the ego identifies with the capital-S Self—the archetypal center of the collective unconscious—and becomes overwhelmed by archetypal material. In interviews and essays, Jung speculated that certain historical figures appeared psychologically “possessed” by archetypal forces larger than their personal ego structures. Hitler as possessed by the god Wotan is an example of this kind of thinking. You do not have to believe in Wotan as a real intelligent agent, but identification with mythic or transpersonal psychic imagery can produce grandiosity.
You see this kind of ego inflation all over the religious and spiritual landscape. Cult leaders are the darkest form of the fusion of the ego with spiritual or numinous energy. The Grateful Dead’s fictional “Estimated Prophet,” sung by Bob Weir, captures that drifting, self-anointed prophet energy. “Like an angel standing in a shaft of light / Rising up to paradise, I know I’m gonna shine.”
Charles Manson was also a California musician but went in a very different direction than Bob Weir, starting a murder cult instead of a jam band. Jim Jones gave us the expression “drinking the Kool-Aid” (even though it was actually Flavor Aid). In these cases of dark charisma, the ego does not dissolve into the bliss of pure love—although that might be part of a ruse—instead the human ego starts to be replaced with an expansive and dangerous spiritual energy. The term “possession” slips from psychology into religion, but I think this is what Jung was hinting at.
Within Buddhist circles, especially Tibetan traditions, Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche called this form of ego-fueled religion spiritual materialism. The ego does not disappear; it just replaces the Lambo and Rolex with mala beads and a cool beard. Instead of being attached to money or power, the ego becomes attached to awakening, insight, or colorful spiritual experiences. It is just narcissism wearing a custom-tailored spiritual suit.
A related concept is spiritual bypassing, a term introduced by John Welwood. Here spirituality functions as a defense. Instead of dealing with psychological issues like anger, grief, shame, or resentment, you detach from them. You reframe your problems into New Age or Christian language and seem pretty balanced from the outside. But the psychological issues are still there in the background.
Spiritual Humility as a Narcissistic Buffer
The relationship between spirituality and narcissism is not simple. While religious or spiritual practices might seem at first glance to be a buffer against narcissism, it instead looks like under certain circumstances religion and narcissism are self-reinforcing.
In particular, we find that individuals can harness religion for self-enhancement in different ways. Religious practitioners can bolster their communal narcissism by believing in their moral superiority or superior virtue. Spiritual practitioners can increase their spiritual superiority by doing yoga or energy practices. More grandiose, charismatic narcissistic leaders can rise to power in religious settings, often being successful at building large congregations but with the turmoil that comes with narcissistic leadership. And at the extremes, you can have ego inflation, where an individual is, in a sense, possessed by the archetypal energy of a spiritual intelligence and does great damage.
Freud argued that in charismatically led groups, followers project their ego ideal—their internal image of who they would like to be—onto the leader.
What buffers against the potential destructive forces of narcissism in religion? One answer is humility. Davis et al. (2010) developed the Spiritual Humility Scale (SHS), conceptualizing spiritual humility as awareness of one’s limitations, openness to new spiritual insight, and reduced spiritual superiority. In their research, spiritual humility was associated with forgiveness and relational health. Conceptually, humility functions as a protective factor against spiritual inflation.
I treat the spiritual world with the same respect I treat the ocean. No matter how many times I dive in, I am always cautious about hidden currents and going too deep.
There is also an insight from group-level dynamics that might help. Charismatic religious leaders can be wonderfully motivating but also potentially dangerous. Freud (1921/1959) argued that in charismatically led groups, followers project their ego ideal—their internal image of who they would like to be—onto the leader. The leader becomes the embodiment of the followers’ aspirations. In doing so, followers both inflate the leader and relieve themselves of carrying those ideals.
So, in this model, the followers themselves are largely responsible for the leader’s charisma and power. In a sense, the religious leader becomes the embodiment of the followers’ ideals and aspirations—the leader is therefore perfected as the followers are weakened.
Humility must therefore operate at both levels—individual and collective—to keep narcissism at bay.
The bottom line is that religion and spirituality are not inherently ego-destroying or ego-inflating. They are psychologically powerful systems of symbols, practices, and communities that can shape and shift your ego in different directions.
If approached intrinsically, with humility and careful integration, spirituality may reduce narcissistic expression. If approached extrinsically, as a vehicle for status or identity display, it may amplify it. Spiritual practice is not an automatic ego dissolver. It can also be a catalyst.
This is an interview from the Orthodoxy podcast in which Andy Schmitt talks to Dr. Keith Campbell about the very topics written about in this essay. Please listen to and share this interview with someone who may be interested.
Citations
Allport, G. W., & Ross, J. M. (1967). Personal religious orientation and prejudice. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 5(4), 432–443. https://doi.org/10.1037/h0021212
Campbell, W. K., & Campbell, S. M. (2009). On the self-regulatory dynamics created by the peculiar benefits and costs of narcissism: A contextual reinforcement model and examination of leadership. Self and Identity, 8(2-3), 214-232.
Davis, D. E., Hook, J. N., Worthington, E. L., Jr., Van Tongeren, D. R., Gartner, A. L., & Jennings, D. J., II. (2010). Relational spirituality and forgiveness: Development of the Spiritual Humility Scale (SHS). Journal of Psychology and Theology, 38(2), 91–107.
Dunaetz, David R. and Jung, Hannah and Lambert, Stephen, Do Larger Churches Tolerate Pastoral Narcissism More than Smaller Churches? (October 1, 2018). Great Commission Research Journal, 10(1), 69-89, 2018, Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=3267070
Freud, S. (1959). Group psychology and the analysis of the ego (J. Strachey, Trans.). W. W. Norton. (Original work published 1921)
Gebauer, J. E., Nehrlich, A. D., Stahlberg, D., Sedikides, C., Hackenschmidt, A., Schick, D., Stegmaier, C. A., Windfelder, C. C., Bruk, A., & Mander, J. (2018). Mind-body practices and the self: Yoga and meditation do not quiet the ego but instead boost self-enhancement. Psychological Science, 29(8), 1299–1308. https://doi.org/10.1177/0956797618764621
Grijalva, E., Harms, P. D., Newman, D. A., Gaddis, B. H., & Fraley, R. C. (2015). Narcissism and leadership: A meta-analytic review of linear and nonlinear relationships. Personnel Psychology, 68(1), 1–47.
Vaughan-Johnston, T. I., Jacobson, J. A., Prosserman, A., & Sanders, M. A. (2021). Mind-body practices and self-enhancement: Direct replications of Gebauer et al. (2018). Psychological Science, 32(8), 1257–1268.
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Watson, P. J., Hood, R. W., Jr., & Morris, R. J. (1984). Religious orientation, humanistic values, and narcissism. Review of Religious Research, 25(3), 257–264.
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Zondag, H. (2005). Between imposing one’s will and protecting oneself: Narcissism and the meaning of life among Dutch pastors. Journal of Religion and Health, 44, 413–426.
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