The Lion of LDS Letters heads home

To paraphrase W.H. Auden:

Earth receive an honored guest,

Truman Madsen's laid to rest.

The Lion of LDS Letters is gone.

When I heard the news I simply laid my head on my desk. And thought.

Rick Nelson, now an instructor at BYU Hawaii, introduced me to Truman Madsen back in the 1970s. Actually, he introduced me to his books — which I came to realize is pretty much the same thing.

Truman Madsen's soul lived in every word he wrote. And every word he wrote defined him.

The book Rick gave me was "Eternal Man." And I loved it. I loved it for not only what it said, but what it did.

"Eternal Man" showed me, and thousands of other young LDS students, that Mormonism could play on the world stage of theology. It could spar with existentialism and humanism and hold its own. The writing was as deep and clear as a mountain lake. And the footnotes ran on for pages.

Before "Eternal Man," LDS students like me put up with being called parochial.

After "Eternal Man," we knew we didn't have to.

Years later, when I finally got a chance to interview Brother Madsen, the first question I asked him was how "Eternal Man" came to be.

It was dusk and we were sitting in the half-lit lobby of the old Deseret News building.

He told me a story, a story he'd probably told many times before. But he spoke with such spiritual conviction and fervor that the words felt minted on the spot. I've thought since that such spiritual conviction is the reason the scriptures always sound ever-fresh.

He told me how he'd first published the chapters of the book as individual essays and how a publisher wanted to gather them into a book.

He told me he'd refused.

And he told about the midnight call he got from a woman in Australia who said one of those essays had kept her from committing suicide.

He told me how he had called the publisher the next day and said, "Crank up the presses."

When he finished talking, there was just enough light in the room for me to see the tears in his eyes, through the tears in my own.

It was a classic "Madsen Moment."

Since that day I've spoken to dozens of people who've had similar experiences. And we all carry those Madsen Moments around inside of us like oysters coddling pearls.

After that evening, I could never get a card, letter or e-mail from Truman Madsen, or hear his voice over the phone, without lighting up.

He's gone now. But I feel myself "lighting up" just writing about him today.

That was his spiritual gift. He was an igniter of souls. He lit everything and everyone around him.

Now, his gift lives on in the wonderful books he left us. He may not be here, but what he held dear will continue to bring us alive.

He is, even in death, the "Eternal Man."

E-MAIL: jerjohn@desnew.com