Project Caravan is a bus convoy traversing America to warn that the world will be destroyed this Saturday, May 21. The media depict them as crazies, but 41 percent of Americans believe that Jesus will return by 2050. End-of-the-world prophecy is all around us, whether we know it or not.
Hey, check out all those crazies who think the world is about to end!
That’s been the theme of most media reporting about “Project Caravan,” the bus convoy traversing America to warn that the world will be destroyed this Saturday. The people expecting Judgment Day on May 21 are fools and simpletons, news stories imply, and the rest of us are free to sit in judgment of them.
But they’re not nearly as weird as you’ve been led to believe. According to a 2010 poll by the Pew Research Center, 41 percent of Americans believe that Jesus will return by 2050. And most of them think the world will end, too.
So while they may not agree with Project Caravan’s specific May 21 prediction, millions of Americans are fully aboard with the basic idea that doomsday is on the way. They’re not just the kooks who are derided on TV; they’re your friends, neighbors, teachers, and doctors. End-of-the-world prophecy is all around us, whether we know it or not.
And it’s been there for a long time, too. The idea has deep roots in American history, which was founded by people who thought they were carrying out God’s will. As the Puritan minister John Winthrop famously preached, America was a “City on the Hill”: As a righteous society, based strictly on Biblical law, it would provide a moral and spiritual example for the rest of the world.
So it shouldn’t surprise us that many Americans also believed the Bible’s passages about how the world would end: in fire and brimstone, ushering in the final battle between Satan and Christ. They simply disagreed about when and where.
To some of the followers of William Miller, a New England-born farmer and lay preacher who made waves with his study of biblical prophecy, the correct date was April 23, 1843. When the appointed day arrived, a few “Millerites” dressed in white robes and waited on hillsides to receive their heavenly reward.
And the following day, many newspapers greeted them with the same kind of mockery that surrounds Project Caravan now. “Some of our readers may doubtless experience a little surprise at waking up this morning and finding themselves alive and kicking, instead of being as crisp and as shriveled as an old boot or a burnt corn-field,” a Philadelphia newspaper jibed. “The failure of the prediction ... proves the folly and conceit of the individual who made it.”