The goal of every Catholic parish is to create missionary disciples.
It’s an inspiring and noble goal. Sometimes trying to do it can feel like being handed a shovel and told to redirect the Atlantic Ocean—especially trying to do it before the 10:30 Mass lets out, the coffee runs out, and someone corners you about why we don’t sing that one hymn from 1987 anymore.
So, do we stay comfortable? Do, we settle for a faith that asks very little, and transforms even less?
No. We move forward toward a constant conversion of the heart and take a moment to realize that transformation doesn’t start in the mind alone. Not with the big, heroic gestures we imagine we’ll make someday when we’re holier, more disciplined, and finally able to find the parish calendar, but with the small things we’re tempted to dismiss as “just rituals” or “Catholic weirdness.”
Want to become a missionary disciple? Start with the knee.
We genuflect in church—that brief drop to one knee before rising again.
We don’t just stand along the back wall like Uncle Uther, who’s been holding up that same spot since 1987 and has never once considered sitting down; partly out of principle, partly because after 30 years he’s actually holding up the back wall.
We drop a knee. We do it when we enter the church and the Blessed Sacrament is present in the tabernacle.
A word for those whose knees have retired: if they now sound like gravel being demolished, a profound bow works. Even bowing difficult? A reverent nod suffices. God invented your knees—He knows when they’re not cooperating. The point isn’t athletic performance; it’s recognition of presence.
Genuflection is quiet rebellion against two dominant orthodoxies of modern life:
Individualism: “I bow to no one.”
Cultural Conformity: “You must bow to whatever we approved this week. Check the latest memo.”
The Catholic response? Genuflect to Jesus. This tends to unsettle everyone.
Your body knows things your brain doesn’t. This sounds like something you’d hear at a yoga retreat led by someone named Moonbeam but the Church was doing embodied spirituality before it was trendy.
Habits form us. Rituals aren’t just “symbols,” they’re formative actions that shape who we become.
Genuflect often enough, entering church, passing the tabernacle, and something remarkable happens: Your body knows God is there before your brain catches up. This is how you become a missionary disciple from the kneecaps up; learning to genuflect before God so you can refuse to genuflect before everything else.
The early Christians refused to kneel to Caesar, and it cost them everything—their property, their freedom, their lives, and probably their social media accounts if those had existed.
But they bent the knee only to Christ.
We still have Caesars. They just wear different suits, swapped togas for LinkedIn badges and have verified checkmarks, and their algorithmic legions know about your gas station sushi habit. Today we kneel to these Caesars:
Consumerism (you are what you buy—submit to Amazon, Temu, and social influencers who’ve never met a product they couldn’t monetize);
Christian Nationalism (confusing country with Kingdom, treating the Constitution like Sinai tablets);
Critical Theories (neo-pagan academic frameworks demanding religious devotion, who eat their own faster than the French Revolution guillotined Robespierre);
Therapeutic Self-Worship (follow your heart, even if your heart thinks gas station sushi at 2 a.m. is a good idea);
Political Ideologies (promising salvation through ballots, as if changing the president could change the human heart);
Internet Outrage (bow to the algorithm and pray nobody screenshots that thing you posted in 2009).
The Catholic who genuflects before the Blessed Sacrament is saying: “My ultimate allegiance is to Christ’s Kingdom, which is ‘not of this world’” (Jn 18:36).
When you’ve genuflected before the King of Kings, everything else seems less ultimate. Even Uncle Uther, who has strong opinions about nearly everything, draws the line at genuflecting to trending hashtags.
The practice trains you to spot pretenders to the throne and resist them, no matter how loudly they demand your knee. This is missionary formation: learning to worship God alone so you can proclaim Him fearlessly.
Want to become missionary disciples? Want to create a culture of evangelization?
Start simple: Walk into church. Find the tabernacle. Drop the knee.
Do it when you feel devout. Do it when you feel distracted. Do it when your knee makes that noise that makes Uncle Uther turn around—and he never turns around.
Because your soul will follow, and so will others, drawn by the quiet, steady witness of people who still know how to kneel, who still believe God is present, not as an idea, but as a reality.
That’s how we join the revolution Christ Himself began.
Not with manifestos but with one knee touching the ground—and a heart that follows.
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Father Patrick J. Brady is vice-rector of St. Charles Borromeo Seminary and parochial administrator of St. Stanislaus Parish in Lansdale.
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