Recently, the news cycle erupted over Pope Leo XIV blessing a block of ice from Greenland. Social media were predictably quick to scoff, with jokes ranging from “Will this ice become holy water?” to “Next, the pope will bless my freezer.”
At first glance, the idea of blessing a frozen chunk of water—or a field of wheat, or the ocean, or, for that matter, the entire universe—may seem absurd. Why would a priest, a bishop, or the pope extend a prayer of blessing to something that can’t hear it, respond, or even feel cold? To answer that question, we need to step back and understand what a blessing is in the Catholic tradition.
The Nature of Blessing
According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, blessings are sacramentals, which are “sacred signs instituted by the Church. They prepare us to receive grace and dispose us to cooperate with it” (1667). It goes on: “Every blessing praises God and prays for his gifts. In Christ, Christians are blessed by God the Father ‘with every spiritual blessing.’ This is why the Church imparts blessings by invoking the name of Jesus, usually while making the holy sign of the cross of Christ” (1671).
Although sacramentals like holy water and medals do not confer sanctifying grace in themselves, as the sacraments do, they sanctify ordinary reality and orient our minds and hearts toward God. In short, blessings are a way of saying, “God made this. God is present here. Let this object (or place) participate in his goodness.” God blesses things not for their own sake, since creatures cannot benefit in the way humans do, but to manifest his power and goodness and to give humans a tangible point of encounter with the divine. Blessings, therefore, have a twofold effect: they honor God and invite us to holiness.
Yet that invitation is not only symbolic. The Church teaches that blessings, as sacramentals, truly sanctify the circumstances of life and call down real spiritual benefit through the Church’s prayer (CCC 1670). St. Thomas Aquinas explains that prayers and blessings can even restrain the power of the devil “from hindering the sacramental effect” (Summa Theologiae, III, q.66, a.10). In other words, blessings are not magical, but they are genuinely efficacious, because God acts through the intercession of his Church. When holy water or blessed salt is used with faith, the believer receives divine help that strengthens and protects.
Ice, Fire, and Everything in Between
Just as Jesus walked on the water, calmed storms, and pointed to lilies and sparrows to teach about God’s providence, blessing natural phenomena is a sacramental acknowledgment of God’s presence in creation. The pope’s recent ice blessing might raise eyebrows, but it fits naturally within this tradition.
Blessing nature isn’t a new idea. Consider the paschal fire in the pre-1955 Easter liturgy, a tradition preserved in many communities today. The fire is blessed before the Easter vigil and lights the paschal candle, which symbolizes Christ as the light of the world. Here, the blessing is not just a ceremonial formality; it transforms ordinary fire into a sign of divine light, preparing the faithful to enter the great celebration of Christ’s resurrection.
Animals, too, have a long history of being blessed. The Feast of St. Francis of Assisi includes the blessing of animals, a charming and meaningful ritual that reminds us that God loves all creatures and that humans are stewards of the earth. Although the dogs, cats, and parrots in attendance may not understand the Latin or hear the bells, the blessing sanctifies human care of animals and reinforces the spiritual reality that all creation belongs to God.
Other blessings might seem more outlandish. In these cases, the Church is teaching a profound truth: everything in creation is good and comes from God (Gen. 1:31). A blessing is a visible, ritualized acknowledgment of that goodness, pointing human hearts toward gratitude, reverence, and responsible stewardship.
Blessings Are Not Self-Serving for Creation
A common objection is natural: “If these things can’t pray or understand, what good does a blessing do?” The answer lies in understanding that blessings are primarily for human benefit, even when directed at objects or natural phenomena. By blessing, the Church sanctifies the human intention and interaction with creation. Holy water, for example, sanctifies the person using it because it reminds him of baptism, purification, and the presence of God. The ice, the fire, the wheat—they serve as points of encounter that help humans recognize God’s handiwork.
But blessings also have real spiritual power. When the Church blesses an object, it sets that object apart for divine purposes and calls God’s protection over those who use it devoutly. This is why blessed objects are treated with reverence and, when worn or displayed, remind the faithful of God’s nearness. The power at work is not the object’s, but God’s, mediated through the prayer of the Church.
In this way, blessings serve as expressions of the Church’s mission to bring the sacred into ordinary life. By blessing a glacier, the pope connects faith to global responsibility. By blessing animals, the Church fosters compassion and stewardship. By blessing the universe, the Church reminds us that God is Lord of all creation, not just of humanity.
Blessings as Public Witness
Blessings also serve a public, communal purpose. When a priest blesses a parish, a school, or even a single loaf of bread, he is making visible the Church’s intercession and God’s protective care. The Catechism notes that sacramentals “prepare us to receive grace and dispose us to cooperate with it” (1671). In other words, blessings draw attention to God’s presence and invite participation in his grace.
This explains why the Church blesses objects in liturgy and life. Holy water at the entrance of a church reminds us of baptism. Candles, salt, bells, and incense all signify God’s holiness and invite reverence. Extending this logic to natural phenomena is simply an extension of sanctifying reality in view of eternal truths.
Blessing Is an Invitation
Yes, blessing ice might sound funny to some. But what is foolish to the world can be a doorway to understanding. When someone laughs at the pope blessing a glacier, the Church isn’t offended; it’s an opportunity to explain that blessings are about God, not about the thing itself.
Not everything should be blessed. The Church reserves blessings for persons, places, and things that elevate the human heart toward God. To bless an object is to dedicate it to divine service or protection, and to do so lightly risks trivializing the sacred. Blessing a machine might make sense if it serves human labor or community (as when the Church blesses tools, ships, or fields), but not if it’s done as a joke. When blessings lose their intentionality, they risk becoming performance rather than prayer. It is also worth saying that blessings should not be given in the spirit of memorializing a thing or topic of emphasis: the blessing should truly be for the thing and Christian good, not to make a statement.
In the end, blessings invite us to see God’s hand in the ordinary and extraordinary alike. They are a ritualized affirmation of faith, a preparation for grace, and a public witness to God’s goodness. As Thomas Aquinas reminds us, God works through the Church’s prayers to restrain evil and to sanctify the faithful.
So the next time you hear about the Pope blessing a glacier, a field of wheat, or anything else that seems curious, remember: it’s not about the ice or the wheat. It’s about us. Blessings are God’s way of inviting humanity to participate in the holiness of creation, to recognize the sacred in the everyday, and to live with gratitude, reverence, and responsibility.
After all, if God cares enough to bless the universe, surely we can spare a little gratitude for our own little corner of it.