On the occasion of the 80th anniversary of the atomic bomb in Hiroshima last August 6th the Spanish Province published this text remembering Fr. Arrupe's experience in Hiroshima at that moment and his effort to serve all the victims of the attack.

It's been 80 years since humanity discovered the limits of its self-destructive power. It was 8:15 a.m. on August 6, 1945, when an intense white light lit up the sky over Hiroshima like nothing else in history had done before. "Little Boy," the first atomic bomb , exploded . After the impact, a Spanish Jesuit climbed a hill on the outskirts of the city and beheld a devastated city engulfed in flames: this was Pedro Arrupe, priest, missionary, doctor, and, ultimately, Superior General of the Society of Jesus.

That morning, the novitiate where he was a teacher ended up becoming a makeshift field hospital for burn and radiation victims. The chapel was partially destroyed, and he, along with other Jesuits, began treating the wounded who didn't yet know what type of weapon they were victims of. The world would never be the same after the nuclear bomb. Pedro Arrupe, and with him the Society of Jesus, had witnessed that.

A Jesuit trained to serve

Arrupe was born near Bilbao on November 14, 1907. He studied medicine in Madrid, but his path changed after a pilgrimage to Lourdes, where he witnessed physical and spiritual healings. Abandoning his studies, he joined the Society of Jesus in January 1927 .

He fervently desired to be a missionary in Japan, following in the footsteps of Saint Francis Xavier. After training in several countries, as well as experiencing firsthand the dissolution of the Society in Spain, he was ordained a priest in 1936. In 1938, he was sent permanently to Japan, where he learned the language and culture, and was even imprisoned by the Japanese authorities on charges of espionage, before being appointed novice master in Nagatsuka, about seven kilometers from the center of Hiroshima.

Witness of horror and sower of hope

The day of August 6, 1945, began like any other, until a blinding flash tore through the sky. At 8:15, the clock stopped. A moment he would later describe in his memoirs, "This Incredible Japan," as "a shot of magnesium." Then came a dull explosion, like the roar of a hurricane, which ripped open doors, windows, and one of the walls of the chapel. And then silence .

Still unaware of exactly what had happened, Arrupe, who had felt the explosion from inside the novitiate, climbed a hill. From there, he saw the unthinkable: a devastated Hiroshima, engulfed in flames and reduced to rubble. The novitiate immediately became a makeshift hospital, and the Jesuits stockpiled all the medicine and food they could. They became the point of contact for the neighborhood residents, seeking help. The wounded, skinless, burned, blind, or disoriented arrived, all seeking assistance. Many died at their hands. Many others, between 150 and 200 people, managed to survive thanks to the care they provided in those first hours, when the tragedy claimed between 70,000 and 80,000 lives.

Many of the wounded didn't know what had hit them. Nor did Arrupe know for sure. But he sensed that this was something completely new. The medical world of the time was unaware of the effects of radiation, to which Arrupe and the other Jesuits were exposed and faced without knowing the consequences. Despite this, there is no trace of heroism or self-pity in his writings. Only a clean and austere testimony, like the way he treated the wounded: without spectacle, without fear, without noise.

A footprint for the future of the Company

Arrupe would bear witness throughout the world about his experiences in Hiroshima, seeking financial aid to rebuild the ruins and requesting Jesuit missionaries in the countries he visited. In Japan, he was elected Provincial in 1954. Respectful, attentive, always optimistic, humble, and with a sense of humor, is how Vicente Bonet , a Valencian Jesuit at Sophia University in Tokyo, described him. He met him upon his arrival in the Land of the Rising Sun in September 1960.

“Arrupe had a deep concern for social issues and had to bear many crosses,” he explains, “although that doesn't diminish his great intuition.” This Jesuit firmly believes that Arrupe's messages are, if anything, more relevant today than in his time: concern for migrants, promoting justice, serving the faith, the inculturation of the Gospel, and the search for peace.

Eighty years have passed since that dawn that divided time in two. Today, as the world faces nuclear threats and a migrant crisis, Arrupe's example calls us to work urgently for peace and justice. Just as Hiroshima is a symbol of memory and reconciliation today, Pedro Arrupe is remembered as a man who knew how to face horror without losing faith, communicating to the world how he transformed pain into compassion and mercy.