Saint Andrew the Commander

The victorious martyr

Join me today to meet a saint and an officer who could have changed history.

Icon of Saint Andrew the General, early 15th century.

Name: Andrew the Commander, Andrew the General, Andrew the Tribune

Life: died c. 300 AD

Status: Saint

Feast: August 19

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The third century was coming to an end, and the Roman Empire was in the midst of its last violent persecution of Christianity. For over two centuries, Christians had been persecuted on and off. This time was different. Christianity was no longer a small, secret community. It was a powerful underground force. If things had worked out just a little differently, the late third century might have seen the emergence of a Christian Emperor. And one man who might have taken this role was named Andrew.

This is the story of Andrew the Commander, which comes to us through tradition and memory from a moment when the fate of the Roman Empire hung in the balance. And it is a story which begins in the same way that it ends, with Andrew and his men facing impossible odds and preparing to die.

The confrontation took place along along the Eastern border of the Roman Empire, the border with the mighty Persians. Andrew had been stationed there with a small force. He found himself in the path of a huge Persian army marching toward the border, preparing for a fight he had no chance to win. Our sources try to put a good face on it, but reading between the lines, it seems that the ruthless area commander, a man named Antiochus, had put Andrew and his men out as a tripwire. There was never any expectation that they were going to win. Instead, their deaths at the hands of the Persians would be used to stir outrage in Rome, and give the emperor his pretext for war.

Gold coin depicting the Emperor Diocletian, c. 303 AD [CNG].

The emperor in this case was Diocletian. And despite his ruthlessness, and his persecution of the Christians, in other ways he had been good for Rome. The empire had barely made it through the third century, buffeted by external enemies as weak emperors struggled to hold onto power. Diocletian was different. He had been born as Diocles, and he had started in the army as a perfectly ordinary soldier. But Diocles was brilliant, becoming a cavalry commander and being hailed as emperor by the men under his command. Diocles defeated all contenders, and became known as Diocletian. He turned out to be as good at politics as he was at war. The emperor began to make reforms, stabilizing Rome, and just in time. One of these reforms was to expand the abilities of the army, creating a more independent force. This did bring the risk of building up officers who would follow Diocletian’s lead and seize power. But Diocletian had a use for some such officers. One of them became his second in command - Galerius.

To Diocletian and Galerius, Christianity was one of the disruptive forces that needed to be contained. It was part of a social transformation that had gripped Rome. Only a few decades later, another new faith, the cult of Sol Invictus, the Unconquered Sun, had gained official standing in the Empire. Unless something was done about it, Christianity would not be far behind. And so Diocletian had cracked down on Christians, martyring many Christians who had come out of the shadows assuming that official recognition would soon be theirs.

Out on the Eastern frontier, Andrew understood the situation in the Empire. But none of it really mattered to him. He was about to face a huge Persian force, and in a day or two he would be dead. And as he was considering the prospect of his own death, Andrew came to a decision. For some time, he had been wrestling with religious questions. Even though Christianity was illegal, Andrew found that he couldn’t stop wondering about Christians and their strange Crucified God.

It was not uncommon for soldiers to adopt new religions. Many soldiers had been drawn into the mysteries of Mithras. And the cult of the Unconquered Sun had also at first been a soldiers’ faith, popular in the East. Perhaps Andrew had been a devotee of the sun. It wasn’t such a stretch to worship the sun that blazed down on the battlefield. But even here, we might detect the tendrils of Providence, a preparation for the Gospel. For was the sun not a god who lived and died, fading away and being reborn in the dark days of winter around Christmas? The idea of a god who died kept popping up among the Indo-Europeans and their heirs. The shocking suggestion was that a god might choose to die for man, as the Christians claimed was true of their Crucified God. And given that Andrew and the other soldiers had seen many Christians who were swept up in Diocletian’s purges and who faced torture and death with hope and even joy, perhaps the claims of these Christians were worth a second look.

So maybe because he himself was about to die, Andrew decided to throw in his lot with the Crucified God. He had nothing to lose. Andrew told the men who were with him that he planned to become a Christian. It was a suicide mission anyway, but he planned to go into battle in the name of the Crucified One, and they were welcome to join him. And so Andrew marched his tiny force against the Persians, and something happened that no one was expecting.

He won.

Perhaps the Persians weren’t expecting much of a fight. They were pushed back. The Emperor Diocletian and Galerius, his second in command, easily adapted to this new reality and, in time, found a way to bring Bahram II, the Persian King of Kings, to the table with an offer of peace. But Andrew’s life began to change. He was suddenly a hero.

Andrew had won an impossible battle. The event had formed a close bond with the men who were there with him. They became Andrew’s elite strike force, a hardened corps of veterans. And of course they had a secret. They were bound together by the new religion they had embraced, and were now exploring.

For Andrew and his men, success brought new problems. Other officers were envious of Andrew, and some of them tried to figure out what made his unit such an effective fighting force. Finally, the secret got out. Andrew’s elite were secret Christians. The other officers brought an official complaint to Antiochus, the overall commander of the area.

Now Antiochus was a cruel man. When Andrew did not deny the allegations, Antiochus’ mind immediately turned to punishment. Antiochus began to prepare a torture device. It was a Roman couch, a place where a Roman would recline for dinner, shaped like a modern chaise longue, only this one was made of metal so that it could be heated with a fire underneath. Antiochus mocked Andrew, saying that since he was such a great war hero he should lie down and make himself comfortable. Andrew lay down on the sizzling hot metal, but showed no sign of being willing to give up his new faith. So Antiochus hauled in some of Andrew’s men, maiming them by having nails pounded through their hands - ensuring they would not be able to fight in the legions any more. And when that didn’t work, Antiochus threatened the crowd with death, telling them he had already plenty of Christians before them

Of course, this was the worst possible strategy Antiochus could have used. Andrew and his men likely knew of Christianity through martyrs. They lived in a world where to be a Christian was to be ready to suffer for Christ. This was exactly what Andrew and his men had been prepared for.

When it became clear to Antiochus that he wasn’t having any effect, he hesitated. He felt like he should execute Andrew and the others. But perhaps something in the back of his mind told him that slaughtering his elite forces was a bad idea. So instead he imprisoned them and sent a letter to Diocletian’s second in command, Galerius, to ask what to do next.

Perhaps Antiochus was hoping for a pat on the head from Galerius. But I imagine Galerius choking on his wine as he read the letter. Galerius and his master Diocletian knew exactly what a motivated officer whose men were willing to follow him to their deaths could accomplish. And Antiochus was saying that he had taken such an officer, publicly mocked him and tortured him, that he had basically created the conditions for a popular new Christian emperor to emerge, and now he was wondering what to do next. So Galerius dashed off an angry letter setting Antiochus straight, and laying out a plan.

And so it was that Andrew and his men were visited in prison by a very different Antiochus, who was much more friendly and apologetic than he had been at their last meeting. All that torture had been more of a misunderstanding. Yes, it was awkward that Andrew was a Christian. They really couldn’t have him in the military. His men couldn’t stay either, especially since that misunderstanding had involved maiming some of them so that they could no longer fight. Andrew and his men would be released from the military. But they’d keep their honours, and likely their pensions as well. And that would be it, no more punishments. In effect, Andrew and his men would be some of the only people in Diocletian’s Rome who were legally permitted to be Christians.

Many of the men must have been pleased. They were getting out of the military early with full benefits. But tradition has it that Andrew understood that something else was going on. Perhaps that shouldn’t have meant much, since after being discharged he had no further authority. And yet many of his men still followed him. Andrew led them North, into modern Turkey. They were headed to the city of Tarsus, the birthplace, some three centuries before, of a Jew named Saul who had also tried to stamp out the people who called themselves Christians, although things had not gone quite the way Saul expected.

Why did Andrew pick Tarsus? I suspect there were several reasons. For one, Tarsus was outside Antiochus’ area of command. Perhaps, also, Andrew had a contact there. The Church was underground, but someone may have slipped Andrew the name of the secret bishop of Tarsus, a man named Peter. From Tarsus Andrew could go North and West, to the wilderness of the Taurus mountains. And perhaps Andrew felt a divine push toward Tarsus as well, for it would be the Christians of Tarsus who would tell his story after it was all over.

For Antiochus and Galerius were not finished with Andrew. They never planned to allow him to walk free. When Antiochus’ spies told him where Andrew was headed, he wrote to his counterpart there with the authority of Galerius to set up the next step.

Russian icon of Saint Andrew the General, early 19th century.

Andrew and his men arrived in Tarsus, and Andrew went in search of the bishop. They needed to be baptized. I like to imagine that Andrew told Bishop Peter that he had not come alone, and then watched the bishop’s jaw drop when he saw several thousand hardened veterans reporting for baptism outside. Now since Andrew and his men were legal Christians, they weren’t concerned about hiding their identities - although after baptizing them Peter would have his own difficulties with the state.

After they were baptized, many of the men still wanted to follow Andrew. And so he led them toward the mountains. And unnoticed by the Christians, as they left the city, an army followed quietly after them. As Galerius had planned, they were being hunted by an force of light infantry, moving fast, determined to catch up with the Christians out of the public view. And they were gaining ground.

Tradition has it that Andrew was the first to realize they were coming. When it came time to choose the path forward in the mountain, he chose a narrow path. Everyone understood the symbolism, even as it led them into a canyon with high walls on either side. It was the perfect place for an ambush, and as Andrew’s men were moving into it he stopped walking. Soon, the archers and javelin throwers and slingers of the light infantry began appearing on the cliffs around them.

Tradition has it that, again, Andrew spoke to his men. They had followed him all this way from that first battle with the Persians. Their lives had been given back to them on that day when they fought for the Crucified God they hardly knew. And this had led them down a strange path through pain and fear and finally to baptism. And now here they were again, facing impossible odds. And yet, once again, Andrew could see his way to victory. Only on this occasion it would be a martyr’s victory, and their crowns would not be awarded by the fickle leadership of Rome. And then Andrew prayed for all his men, the ones who would stand and die with him, but also for the others who would lose their nerve and flee through the mountain passes. Andrew prayed for the land, that their deaths might create a place of holiness and healing. And then the soldiers waited for the attack. Tradition has it that at the end, almost 2600 men stood and died with Andrew, about half a Roman legion.

Sculpture of Galerius, c. 310 AD.

And so Galerius and Antiochus had controlled what might have been an outbreak of Christianity. Andrew would not lead a Christian army against them. The danger had passed. Although, as Antiochus could never seem to grasp, the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the Church. There was a young officer serving on the Eastern front, a man who must have known Andrew at least by reputation. Andrew’s strange rise and fall did not change his mind - not right away. But as Saint Andrew the Commander could have told him, these things have a way of staying with a man. In only a few years, that officer would lead his own army to face the sorcerer Maxentius in a battle for the destiny of Rome. And on that day, the officer, Constantine the Great, as we remember him, who was destined to become the first Christian emperor of Rome, would raise the banner of the Crucified God and march into history.

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