How Much Should Religious Workers Get Paid?

How much should workers in the spiritual realm earn? It’s a question that often raises eyebrows and ignites debates. As writer with a background in the clergy, sho specializes in writing about spirituality, it’s something I constantly wrestle with. Most of us are used to the idea of spiritual leaders dedicating their lives to the service of others, but should that service come with a price tag?

Just asking the question makes me queasy, yet plenty of others feel differently.

By “spiritual workers,” I’m not just talking about mega-pastors or televangelists. The group includes a small but significant demographic: ministers of all faiths, parochial school teachers, choir directors, writers who specialize in spiritual themes (like myself), and some (but not all) employees of faith-based nonprofits. They chose their professions to serve others — so, does that influence how you feel about what they deserve to earn?

Take a moment to reflect on the paychecks of those who serve in the name of faith. Should they be struggling? Comfortable? Or living the high life?

And how does your answer feel — like it comes from your gut, your heart, or your head?

Televangelists & Cash

Let’s move away from the hypothetical and dive into the real world. How should we feel knowing that Kenneth Copeland’s net worth exceeds $700 million? Or that Joel Osteen earns roughly $55 million a year? These are not anomalies — global televangelism has created an entire class of ultra-rich religious figures. In South America and Africa, many televangelists rank among the world’s richest pastors.

This is more than just a comfortable living. It’s private jets, sprawling estates, and luxury real estate portfolios. Much of their income comes from church-related activities, such as fundraising, “crusades,” and speaking engagements. Add to that the revenue from books, CDs, DVDs, and trinkets, and we see that faith — at least for some — can be incredibly lucrative.

Does that sit well with you?

Are these ministers still serving a spiritual purpose, or have they turned faith into a profitable business?

Non-Televangelist Spiritual Leaders

Now, what about spiritual leaders who aren’t televangelists? Eckhart Tolle’s net worth is reportedly $80 million, while the Dalai Lama has access to $150 million in assets. Marianne Williamson sits at a “modest” $2.5 million. And although I couldn’t find an exact figure for Julia Cameron, I’d wager it’s substantial.

If you’re looking for some relief from all this wealth, consider the story of Kazuo Inamori, a Buddhist monk who became a billionaire by managing brands like Japan’s Kyocera. Inamori led a simple life, choosing to reinvest much of his wealth into education, social welfare, and global advancement. Despite his fortune, he didn’t indulge in personal luxuries, reminding us that wealth doesn’t necessarily equate to greed.

This begs the question:

Is it the wealth itself that’s troubling, or what people choose to do with it?

The Vatican’s Vast Wealth

It’s impossible to discuss wealth in religion without mentioning the Vatican. While Pope Francis himself has taken a vow of poverty, estimates of the Vatican’s net worth vary wildly, with some sources pegging it at nearly $130 billion. The Vatican Museums alone house a collection of roughly 70,000 works of art, including some of the most prominent Roman sculptures and Renaissance paintings. 

In 1969 Time estimated the Vatican to be worth $10 to $15 billion. In 2024 that would equal $129,610,985,915, or nearly $130 billion. 

While the Pope doesn’t personally own this wealth, no one would deny lives well, with access to a private helipad, gardens, and all the trappings of historical grandeur.

The cognitive dissonance here is undeniable. How do we reconcile a life of supposed spiritual simplicity with access to vast, priceless resources?

The Example of Paul the Tentmaker

In contrast to the televangelists, we have Paul, the tentmaker. In Acts 18:1–3, Paul’s trade is mentioned, and in 1 Corinthians, he famously defends the right to be compensated for spiritual work. He argues:

Don’t you know that those who serve in the temple get their food from the temple, and that those who serve at the altar share in what is offered on the altar? In the same way, the Lord has commanded that those who preach the gospel should receive their living from the gospel. — 1 Corinthians 9:12–13

Yet, he also insists that he didn’t exercise his right to get paid, choosing instead to offer the gospel free of charge, because he can’t help himself from preaching and teaching the truth, as he sees it. 

But I have not used any of these rights. And I am not writing this in the hope that you will do such things for me….since I am compelled to preach. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel! — 1 Corinthians 9:14–15

That’s some pretty fancy wordsmithing there, on Paul’s part. He was navigating local community politics at the church he founded in Corinth, while he was away, working in Ephesus. “Yes, your pastor deserves to be paid,” he’s saying in this text, but “Do as I say, not as I do.” 

Paul set himself above the need for a salary, because he was driven to teach. Note his use of the word, “compelled.” He was so inspired that he worked ceaselessly — dragging his aging body back and forth along the dusty highways of the Mediterranean world for decades, for free, all the while paying the rent with his daytime gig.

Pro bono, indeed.

But is it fair to expect all spiritual workers to live as Paul did, relying on outside work to support their ministry?

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Professionals Who Serve — And Get Paid

Teachers, doctors, nurses, and other professionals dedicated to serving others are paid for their work. Their salaries are commensurate with the skills they’ve honed and the value society places on their services. Yet, when it comes to ministers and spiritual leaders, the lines get murkier.

Should those who guide us spiritually be held to a different standard, one that demands sacrifice without compensation?

Or should their labor of offering comfort, counsel, and guidance —often when we’re in the darkest point of our lives, in grief, illness, and loss—be valued in the same way as those who set a broken arm or teach English literature?

Many believe spiritual workers should be driven by a calling, not by financial reward. That’s fine, but I have a water bill to pay, and my kid needs braces. Paul would probably advise me to monetize and be happy. And yet….

The Virtue of Poverty in World Traditions

Throughout history, many religious traditions have emphasized the virtue of poverty. Christian monks, Buddhist mendicants, Hindu ascetics, and even Islamic Sufis practice detachment from material wealth as a means of cultivating spiritual wisdom. I experienced first hand my Buddhist colleagues in Divinity School with their begging bowls on the streets of Cambridge, hoping for alms. Long-time readers will recognize that story from An Ivy League Divinity School Degree in Three Bullet Points. 

Across these varied traditions, the idea is simple: the less we have, the more we are open to the divine…and not just the divine. The less we have, the more we are open to other people, and the world around us.

More than this, even is the idea of where we put our faith — do we depend upon the concrete world to feed and clothes us, or do we rely on the unseen, the eternal? 

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven….For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. — Matthew 6:19-21

Jesus clearly had an opinion.

My Personal Struggle with Charging for Spiritual Writing

This is where things get personal. As a spiritual writer, I’ve always struggled with the idea of charging for my work. On one hand, my writing takes time, effort, and years of experience — including a Master of Divinity from Harvard. Logically, it makes sense that I should be compensated for the knowledge and insight I bring to my work. Yet, every time my hand strays toward the paywall button, it feels like a betrayal of my calling.

I think of Paul, stretching canvas by day to make tents, and offering his teachings freely in the homes and courtyards of Rome long into the evening. Should my writing follow the same path, offered without a price tag in the hopes that it reaches more people?

It’s a question that haunts me: Is it wrong to place a price on something as sacred as spiritual guidance?

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The Balance Between Wealth and Service

In the end, the relationship between wealth and spirituality is complex and multifaceted. Some spiritual workers accumulate immense wealth, raising questions about their integrity. Others live humbly, following in the footsteps of ancient traditions that equate poverty with wisdom. 

It might seem a simple challenge to steer a course between the extremes —where spiritual work sustains without corrupting. Easy to say, but experience tells me that negotiation is hard. A day job —not tent making . but working for nonprofits, and with freelancing gigs — keeps me honest. 

And with Paul alongside, I’m in good company. 

Hello, Enthusiasts! I’m a writer specializing in world religions. With M.Div. in hand, I’ve spent the past couple of decades exploring Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Jainism, Judaism, and Shinto, as well as traditional Incan practice. Check out some of my other Religion and Spirituality stories here.

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