Nov 5: Loginus
Loginus is a composite of a couple of soldiers assigned to crucifixion detail one fateful Friday that Christians call “good.” More than any other soldier saint, Longinus spans the narrative distance from hero to villain.
Synoptic centurion
Matthew 27, Mark 15, and Luke 23 all mention a centurion present for the Passion of Christ. What’s more is that it is “the centurion” (vv.54, 39, & 47, respectively), as in, the pilus prior in charge of all six auxilia centuries stationed at Fort Antonia, overlooking (Joshua’s) Temple. At any given time he would have been the highest-ranking Roman in all Jerusalem, but Pilate was visiting from Caesarea Maritima for Passover. Were it not for the Jews’ (well-earned) reputation for revolt, this centurion would have been the one to decide Jesus’ fate.
On this particular Friday, however, the centurion took a backseat so that the face of Roman rule could shine forth. Every soldier on detail that day was acting under the direct control of imperial interests. We cannot blame the rank and file grunts for capital punishment; it was out of their hands. What we can blame them for is seeking validation in belittling others, like mocking the condemned men. (*I’m not sure casting lots for their possessions violated any standard protocols, because I suspect Rome laid claim on any and all property of convicted criminals.)
As the scene unfolds and miraculous signs make apparent God’s power, the centurion singles Jesus out among the three, saying, “Truly this man was God’s [child]!” (Matt 27:54, Mark 15:39) Technically, he could be saying ‘child of a god,’ as Romans had an inclusive pantheon and worshipped both imperial and regional deities. But that isn’t how the Church has historically read this line. Instead, we clump “the centurion” together with “one of the soldiers” there beside his NCO. And not just any soldier…
Johannine Spear-er
In John’s version, the execution detail is instructed by Pilate to break the criminals’ legs to hasten death. As they approach Jesus, it looks like he’s already dead. Longinus is the name given to the soldier who pierces his side because he uses a logchē, the only place in the Bible where this word appears. Oddly, a pilum, the Latin equivalent, appears in Ft. Antonia because it was used almost exclusively by legionarii for battlefield engagements. But that’s how John frames the crucifixion, a cosmic battle between life and death, order and chaos, God and satan.
There is no evidence that this soldier is the centurion of the synoptic gospels, but that did not keep early Christians from believing it anyway. It’s entirely plausible that the spear-er is the pilus prior because the order to break their legs comes from Pilate. Neither is it clear where the N comes from (as he is often called “Longinus”) because the earliest appearance of his name is Loginos, from a sixth-century illuminated manuscript. He is not given a name in Scripture, but he does appear to be a Christian if he’s also the centurion of the Synoptic Gospels.
Legendary Faith
The text gives no detail into Loginus’ life, but legends abound. When a grunt wants to convey that something incredible really did happen, they start their story with “No shit, there I was…” It can also be a way to signal unexpected belief, as in ‘No shit, I can run a 5-minute mile!’ This is the same sentiment implied by alēthōs - “No shit, a child of God!” (Matt 27:54, Mark 15:39)
Oral traditions vary, but many suggest Loginus became a monk or bishop and was eventually martyred as a Christian. They got that idea from their understanding that the statement made at the foot of the cross was sincere, a confession of Jesus' divinity rather than an eye-rolling ironic insult. I can almost hear the aged veteran retelling the tale to young catechists, “No shit, there I was on crucifixion detail when this dude’s blood shoots in my eye. When I wiped it away, I could see better than I ever had before!” Loginus is a fµ¢king legend!
