BS-settembre-2025-en


BS-settembre-2025-en

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The Divine Folly of the Sower
who “sows in the dark”
The parable of the sower, narrated in the Synoptic Gospels, is
a powerful and foundational image of the Christian message. At
first glance, it might seem a simple allegory about the
different reception of the Word of God. However, upon deeper
inspection, it reveals a radical truth, especially when
applied to educational and pastoral processes.
This truth is contained in the very gesture of the sower, a
gesture we could define as “sowing in the dark”; an act of
immeasurable, seemingly inefficient generosity, which defies
the human logic of outcome and control.
The core of the reflection does not lie so much in the four
types of soil, but in the figure of the sower and his action.
He goes out and scatters the seed with a broad, almost
reckless gesture. He does not conduct a preliminary mapping of
the field, does not select the most promising plots, does not
carefully avoid stones or thorns. He sows everywhere. This is
not the technique of a modern farmer who aims to maximize
harvest by optimizing resources. It is, rather, the
representation of a divine logic, a logic of abundance and
unconditional giving.
Transferred to the educational and pastoral sphere, this
gesture unmasks one of our greatest temptations, that of
efficiency and measurable, immediate results. The educator,
the catechist, the priest, the parent, are often plagued by
the “calculating farmer syndrome.” There is a tendency to
invest time and energy where a promise of return is glimpsed:
the brilliant student, the devout parishioner, the most
responsive youth group. Unconsciously, there is a risk of
neglecting the “road” of hardened hearts, the “stony ground”
of ephemeral enthusiasms, or the “thorns” of complicated and
suffocating lives. The parable tells us, instead, that the

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seed of the Word, of care, of knowledge, of witness, must be
cast everywhere, without calculation and without prejudice.
“Sowing in the dark” means, first and foremost, acting out of
pure gratuitousness, driven not by the probability of success,
but by an unwavering faith in the value of the seed itself. It
is love that makes no distinctions, that offers itself to all
because it is not an investment, but an overflowing gift.
Secondly, “sowing in the dark” reveals a profound truth about
the humility of our role. The darkness is not only the
indifference of the sower to the quality of the soil, but also
the impenetrable mystery that is the human heart. The educator
and pastor cannot “see” into the soul of another. They do not
fully know the past wounds, the hidden fears, the unconscious
resistances that make a heart hard as a road or shallow as a
thin layer of earth. They cannot predict what worldly concern
or what new passion will choke a good intention.
Acting in this “darkness” means accepting not having control
over the growth process. Our task is to sow, not to make
germinate. Growth belongs to a mysterious dynamic that
involves the freedom of the person (the soil), the intrinsic
power of the seed (the Word, love), and the action of Grace
(the sun and rain that do not depend on the sower). This
awareness frees us from two opposing but equally harmful
burdens: the arrogance of those who feel they are the
architects of others’ success and the frustration of those who
feel responsible for failure. The educator who sows in the
dark knows that their work is essential but not omnipotent.
They offer, propose, accompany, but ultimately withdraw
respectfully before the sacred enclosure of the other’s
freedom, where the true encounter between seed and earth takes
place.
Finally, “sowing in the dark” is an act of radical hope. Why
does the sower continue to scatter the seed with such
generosity, even knowing that much of it will be lost? Because
his trust is not placed in the efficiency of his gesture, but
in the inexhaustible vitality of the seed. He knows that,
despite the roads, stones, and thorns, the seed has within

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itself a power of life capable of producing fruit “thirty,
sixty, or a hundred times what was sown” wherever it finds
even a small patch of good soil.
This is a fundamental lesson against the cynicism and
weariness that can assail those who work in the educational
and pastoral field. Faced with apathy, indifference, or
hostility, the temptation is to stop sowing, to conclude that
“it’s not worth it.” The parable invites us, instead, to shift
the focus from the response of the soil to the quality of the
seed. Our task is not to obsessively worry about the harvest,
but to ensure we sow good seed: an authentic word, a credible
witness, a patient love, a solid culture.
The hope of the sower is not vague optimism, but the certainty
that Truth, Beauty, and Goodness, if offered with generosity,
possess an inherent force that, sooner or later, in a way we
cannot predict or control, will find a way to germinate.
In conclusion, the parable of the sower frees us from the
tyranny of immediate results and introduces us to a
spirituality of action founded on gratuitousness, humility,
and hope. “Sowing in the dark” is not a blind or naive action,
but the most realistic and fruitful act possible, because it
is based on the reality of a God who gives without measure and
on the mystery of human freedom. For the educator and pastor,
this means loving without expecting rewards, teaching without
claiming to shape, witnessing faithfully without the anxiety
of seeing the fruits. Perhaps, the first and most important
fruit of this generous sowing is not what grows in the field,
but the transformation of the heart of the sower, who learns
to act and love with the same divine, generous, and hopeful
“folly.”