(JTA) — In the coming days, many eulogies will attempt to capture the magnitude of the loss suffered this week by the Jewish community. Really, though, all you need are eight words: Edgar Bronfman was a prince of his people.
There are other machers who devote much of their time and money to Jewish causes. But none of them boast the same combination of lineage, intrigue, eccentricity, wonder, grandness and love for Judaism and the Jews.
By birth, he was the son of Samuel Bronfman, chairman of Seagram Ltd. and president of the Canadian Jewish Congress, making him the scion of a family renown both for its beverage empire and its tradition of Jewish leadership. And on both counts it showed: He was never quite like the other boys, never quite like the other billionaires.
The differences were on display the first time I met him, at a conference in Chicago in 2000 dedicated to making synagogues more meaningful and attractive. He shared the stage with two other mega philanthropists, financier Michael Steinhardt and oil and gas magnate Charles Schusterman.
Steinhardt berated the Reform and Conservative rabbis in the audience, sounding very much like a Wall Street guy who made enough cash not to suffer fools lightly. But he was balanced by Schusterman, who was more humble and modest than most of the rabbis getting the Steinhardt treatment – not surprising for a self-made man who, though he literally struck it rich, never thought of himself as too big for Tulsa.
And then there was Edgar. He talked about how holding the end-of-Shabbat Havdalah ceremony on Saturday night didn’t feel right to him in the middle of his ski weekends, so he started doing it on Sunday night. High Holidays services were boring, so he started putting together his own in his East Side apartment building. Then mid-session, without comment, he stood up, left the stage and exited the room. When he returned a few minutes later, he let us know – with his particular brand of self-assuredness – that it was just a case of a man’s got to go when a man’s got to go.
In those moments, I saw the silver spoon side of Edgar and had little trouble comprehending his tabloid-rich family history or his roller-coaster business record. It also wasn’t hard to see how two other traits – his occasionally vulgar rebuke of political opponents and his reliance on and loyalty to a cadre of lieutenants – helped fuel the controversy and dysfunction that would bring an end to his otherwise storied tenure as the president of the World Jewish Congress.
But in between, and in the years since his stepping down as WJC president, what became clear was that his immeasurable contributions to the Jewish people far outweighed the bumps and were byproducts of the same set of life experiences and character traits.
Edgar’s memory is already a blessing, and will be for decades to come, because he chased big ideas and remained true to himself in a way that few of us could afford to be.
He lived large but was no dilettante, neither in his defense of Jewish rights around the world or his determination to connect young Jews to their heritage. He was passionate about studying Jewish texts and hearing what the policy experts had to say, but at the same time never hesitated to speak out against tradition or convention.