clerical envy

(A portion of a retreat talk given to the Deacons of the Diocese of Pembroke, Oct 20, 2026)

Deacon Douglas McManaman

There are some interesting and useful insights we can borrow from Jungian psychology that I believe can help us to understand certain dynamics of parish life and clerical ministry. In Jungian psychology, the shadow refers primarily to the unconscious part of the psyche that contains traits, desires, and impulses that the conscious ego rejects, refuses to acknowledge, and thus represses. This realm holds qualities that trigger shame, guilt, or societal disapproval. The way to spot the shadow is to pay attention to how we attribute our own disowned traits to others, that is, how we project them outside of ourselves. For example, if a person has an intense and irrational dislike for strong women, it will often mean a person’s shadow contains a repressed anima, the feminine aspect of the male psyche. It is rejected as inferior and shameful, and then projected onto women, who are henceforth regarded as inferior. The kind of women such a person prefers are the submissive kind, the sycophants, while strong and independent minded women are particularly despised. The anima is a positive, but in the repressed person it is seen as a negative for any number of cultural reasons. There’s an old expression that points to this phenomenon, namely, “We only see and others what we see in ourselves”; and by extension, we really only hate in others what we hate in ourselves. 

There is, however, such a thing as shadow gold, or the golden shadow. This is not a negative, but contains suppressed positive traits like untapped creativity, or spontaneous joy that might have been discouraged during childhood, or leadership qualities, a good critical mind, etc. Jungian analyst Robert A. Johnson writes: 

Everyone has inner gold. It isn’t created, but it does have to be discovered.… When we awaken to a new possibility in our lives, we often see it first in another person. A part of us that has been hidden is about to emerge, but it doesn’t go in a straight line from our unconscious to becoming conscious. It travels by way of an intermediary, a host. We project our gold onto someone, and suddenly we’re consumed with that person. The first inkling of this is when the other person appears to be so luminous that he (or she) glows in the dark. That’s a sure sign that something is changing in us and we are projecting our gold onto the other person. When we observe the things we attribute to the other person, we see our own depth and meaning. Our gold goes first from us to them. Eventually it will come back to us. Projecting our inner gold offers us the best chance for an advance in consciousness. (Robert A., Johnson. Inner Gold: Understanding Psychological Projection, Asheville, NC: Koa Books. Kindle Edition, pp. 3-4.)

Such projection of our own inner gold is necessary for a time, but we need to take it back eventually, or help others take back their own inner gold, when they are ready. If a person does not get back their inner gold, they will remain in some ways a perpetual child. Johnson continues: 

The exchange of gold is a mysterious process. It is our gold, but it’s too heavy for us, so we need someone else to carry it for a time. That person becomes synonymous with meaning. We follow him with an eagle eye wherever he goes. His smile can raise us to heavenly heights, his frown will hurl us to hellish depths, so great is the power of meaning. Sometimes the exchange of gold takes the form of hero worship.

… You put your own gold onto somebody until you’re able to hold it yourself. … I’ve made my way in this world by a series of carriers of specific gold. With the aid of heroes, I’ve proceeded in the way an alpine climber hammers in his piton, secures his rope, pulls himself up to the piton, and gets hold of it. This is how we grow. Everyone comes to be where he or she is now, to some extent, through the exchange of gold. 

When the exchange of gold proceeds well, we mature and eventually become strong enough to ask for our gold back. It might be awkward at first. We might have to slam the door as we exit, to convince ourselves that we’re leaving. We act in this kind of adolescent way, clumsy at retrieving our gold, because we don’t really understand what’s going on. Carrying someone’s gold is a fine art and a high responsibility. If you are the recipient of someone’s gold, hold it carefully and be prepared to give it back within a microsecond’s notice. Unfortunately, there are people who collect gold and refuse to give it back. It’s a kind of murder. They collect an entourage or followers and exploit them. …

It is only after you get your gold back that you can see the gold of the other person. When the time is right, when you are ready to bear the weight, you must get your gold back. If you can do it with dignity and tact, that’s best. But you must get it back, one way or another. (Ibid., pp. 5-6)

And that’s one of the fundamental problems with clericalism. The cleric becomes the hero. Of course, some priests feel the weight of that gold and don’t want any part of it–some are even crushed by it. Others, however, want it, feed on it, and will hang on to this gold–which really belongs to the person projecting it–and such a cleric will refuse to give it back. It is the source of his identity, a persona (mask), a sense of self they were lacking without it. In short, it gives them a sense of importance. This, of course, is a very unhealthy state of affairs. 

A healthy pastor or spiritual guide will act as a catalyst for individuation, which in Jungian terms  is the lifelong process of psychological development in which a person integrates the conscious and unconscious parts of the psyche to become whole, unique, and authentic. Our job is to hold the golden shadow temporarily, and then gently point the mirror back at the follower, saying, “The holiness and wisdom you see in me is actually your own.” Clericalism is the systemic refusal to say those words.

The other side of this is that some of the laity readily project that inner gold onto clergy and refuse to take back their inner gold. This is where we idealize clergy, that is, put priests/bishops on pedestals. The cleric’s role–one of them at least–is to help the faithful get to the point where they are able to take back their gold they projected in the first place. In theological terms, the role of the clergy is to help them to discover their baptismal priesthood. 

In addition to their natural gifts, their inner gold also includes the gifts of the Holy Spirit, the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity, and specific charisms that have been given to them for the building up of the body of Christ, etc. The unhealthy pastor, however, keeps them children; he relishes clerical privilege and is simply unable or unwilling to help the faithful tap into that baptismal priesthood and the gifts they’ve been given to serve the Church. At the root of this stifling clerical elitism is the fear of becoming insignificant, and so he represses this into the shadow realm and projects it upon the laity, regarding them as insignificant, or of much lesser significance. The way around this is to become conscious of this fear and embrace that insignificance. 

That is why reflecting on death is so important, and clergy are given that opportunity every time they preside over a funeral and a burial. The fact of the matter is that we are insignificant. Or better yet, we are and we are not. We matter to God, who alone matters, and so we have a significance that is immeasurable, but the world will go on soon after our own funeral is over, and from that angle we have very little significance, a significance the world does not recognize and can only really know when seen from God’s point of view. 

I cannot forget the day of my mother’s funeral–it took place on September 11th. The towers were going down as we were leaving the house to attend her funeral. What is interesting is that I remember feeling angry that the world’s attention is now focused on New York City and not on my mother’s funeral. I remember becoming aware of how absurd this feeling was; for I know the world’s attention was never turned towards my mother. But if I were to put my feelings into words, they would be: “This is my mother’s day. Today is her funeral. Pay attention here. You should be grieving her death, all of you, but now everyone’s attention is turned away from her.” I knew this was irrational, because only a relatively small number knew my mother, but that didn’t seem to change my feelings, for I was angry that this catastrophic event had rendered her more insignificant. 

And yet, to the world, we are insignificant, relatively at least. But this is something we have to embrace. If we embrace that hiddenness and love that insignificance, the result will be that we won’t project it onto others. But we can only really embrace that insignificance when it is safe to do so, and it is safe when we finally experience our own significance in God’s eyes. At that point, nothing else regarding ourselves will matter. Then we will see others as our equals, and we will be delighted to help them take back their inner gold and discover their own specific charisms and ministry, vocation, etc., even when those charisms take the spotlight away from us. Hence, the importance of St. John the Baptist: “He must increase, I must decrease” (Jn 3, 30). For in the end, it is all about Christ, not us.