Fred Bruning: Heaven, hell and the Golden Rule

Where are you going, Heaven or Hell?

This is the remarkable question greeting motorists on Interstate 26 somewhere outside Charleston, South Carolina.

Most travelers likely were focused on reaching Columbia safely, or Charlotte, North Carolina, or, like us, branching off westward for Atlanta, and not on their prospects for eternal life. But there, high above the rattling midday traffic, was a billboard pressing just that urgent concern.

Heaven or hell? Check your GPS.

There were other roadside signs regarding sin and repentance of the sort not seen as often in the North. Posing as cool and citified, we keep that sort of thing private. Judging by highway signage, the South has all but conquered its spiritual inhibitions.

“Wow, heavy question, heaven or hell,” I said to Wink, my wife.

“Eye on the road, please,” she said. “Let’s not find out today.”

We were down South for the graduations of two grandchildren.

At the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, Grace, daughter of our daughter, sat amid rows of Tar Heel classmates in powder blue gowns filling the football field.

The commencement speaker, civil rights lawyer Bryan Stevenson, whose 2014 book, “Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption,” was made into a movie, offered the Class of ’23 congratulations and said education is a privilege that comes with responsibilities.

“I want you to connect with those who are struggling and suffering,” Stevenson said in what may be the best speech the grads will ever hear. “I don’t want you to kind of shield yourselves with this degree and do only the things that work for you because I believe we are called to do something better than that.”

The Clef Hangers, an a cappella group, sang the dreamy James Taylor classic “Carolina in My Mind” and, before you knew it, Grace and the other freshly approved alums were on their way with — let’s hope — Stevenson’s words echoing as loudly as the cheers when tassels were turned and mortarboards tossed.

The other ceremony marked the advancement of our Georgia grandchild, Mary, from elementary to middle school.

Mary wore a pink dress and white shoes and had her hair done. She won awards for being courteous and kind. To quote the school bulletin, Mary was an ace at “loving others as we love ourselves.”

At a little party, Mary, 11, revealed her career hopes — to be a “fashion designer,” and earn exactly $83,580 a year — but it is her precocious sense of decency that we hope guarantees success (pay grade to be determined).

Before reaching Georgia, we stopped to see a couple of friends — pals of mine from the old South Brooklyn days at St. John’s Lutheran who, in retirement, traded egg creams and knishes for red rice and butter beans.

Marge in Hillsborough, North Carolina, and Fred on Edisto Island, South Carolina, marveled at the time gone by — the mighty accumulation of years.

“Look at us, still around,” I said. “Maybe something in the punch at those Luther League socials.”

“Must have been.”

The church was the center of our lives. We sat in the pews Sunday mornings, not necessarily awake. At “League” meetings, we put on campy variety shows in the big recreation hall, felt the rapid heartbeat of first love, and, with chaperones spying from the sidelines, slow danced to “Earth Angel.”

Looking back, what influence did Pastor Werner Jentsch, our kindly minister, and St. John’s have on our lives? What, really, was it all about?

“Do unto others.” That counsel was at the heart of all those Sunday School sessions and lengthy sermons and daybreak Easter services. Lend a hand, give up your seat on the subway, don’t take the last chocolate in the box — the good, old Golden Rule mastered by Mary in Georgia.

It was a long trip, nearly two weeks. Wink and I hadn’t done anything like it since COVID.

All those miles, rest stops, breakfast specials at Waffle House. We’re exhausted but happy for the people we saw — young and old — and the laughs and affection and memories not yet shattered by time.

The alarming question raised on I-26 — Heaven or Hell? — most likely won’t get answered but, as I think Bryan Stevenson and Pastor Jentsch were saying, it’s worth keeping in mind.