Wow, I just got my dose of crazy for the day. Where to start.
First off Jesus was likely never called Christ if he even existed. You see as has been pointed out already Christ comes from the Greek word "Christos" meaning annointed one. Now Jesus and those around him didn't speak in Greek, the only ones that may have spoken Greek, like Pilate or maybe the pharisses never refer to him as Christos, furthermore they all seem to communicate in the same language as all of the characters understand each other without issue.
Intact the earliest reference to christos comes from Tacitus about a century after Jesus would have died. And that is of questionable origins. What Jesus was called was 1. Son of god. And 2. King of the Jews. Now king of the Jews was recorded in Greek according to the gospels. However none of the ot kings take the title anointed one at any point.
So your conflating a post mortem title with the mans name for one.
For 2 how the fuck does the name killingsworth have anything to do with Jesus?
First off Jesus was likely never called Christ if he even existed. You see as has been pointed out already Christ comes from the Greek word "Christos" meaning annointed one. Now Jesus and those around him didn't speak in Greek, the only ones that may have spoken Greek, like Pilate or maybe the pharisses never refer to him as Christos, furthermore they all seem to communicate in the same language as all of the characters understand each other without issue.
Intact the earliest reference to christos comes from Tacitus about a century after Jesus would have died. And that is of questionable origins. What Jesus was called was 1. Son of god. And 2. King of the Jews. Now king of the Jews was recorded in Greek according to the gospels. However none of the ot kings take the title anointed one at any point.
So your conflating a post mortem title with the mans name for one.
For 2 how the fuck does the name killingsworth have anything to do with Jesus?
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
