This past Shabbos, our community lost someone whose impact is almost impossible to measure: Rabbi Shlomo Porter, ZT”L, founder of Etz Chaim. For decades, Rabbi Porter stood at the forefront of kiruv in Baltimore, building what would become one of the longest-standing outreach organizations in the country. But titles never captured who he was. If you want to understand what makes a true kiruv professional successful, it isn’t marketing or programming or clever campaigns. It’s heart – an oversized heart with room for anyone who needed it.

With Rabbi Porter, there was always room. Room when someone needed guidance. Room when someone had questions they were embarrassed to ask. Room when someone needed a place to land, or a listening ear, or simply a seat at a Shabbos table. Kiruv is a field filled with joy and with heartbreak. You can spend months working with someone, see them inspired, growing, excited, only to watch them pull away. It takes an unusual kind of person to ride those waves without becoming jaded. To stay patient, open, steady, and giving requires the kind of character that can set ego aside and deal with whatever the day brings.

It feels fitting that he was niftar during the weeks when we read about Avraham and Sarah. The Torah tells us of a tent open in all directions, welcoming every traveler. But the tent wasn’t the point; it was the people behind it. Their hearts were open long before their doors were. Rabbi Porter and his wife, Rebbetzin Shoshana Porter, embodied that same spirit. Whether you were Torah-observant or barely connected, whether your background matched his or not at all, you were welcomed the same way. There was no judgment, no pressure, no performance – just warmth, curiosity, and a real desire to help another Jew take a step forward.

The name “Etz Chaim” itself feels like a commentary on his life’s work. An etz chaim, a tree of life, is strong, steady, rooted, and enduring. A tree bears fruit long after the planter is gone, and Rabbi Porter’s tree reaches far beyond his family. It includes every person he guided, taught, encouraged, or simply stood behind when no one else did. The men and women who became Torah-observant because he believed in them, and now their children and grandchildren, are the living branches of that tree. His impact stretches farther than anyone can count, a testament to what one person can build with sincerity and love.

As many of the illustrious speakers at the levayah pointed out, what made Rabbi Porter so successful wasn’t only his technique or charisma, it was that he wasn’t just a kiruv professional. He was a genuine talmid chacham who lived the Torah he shared with others. For over fifty years, he learned daily with my uncle, R’ Leib Hoffman יבדל"א. Their learning endured despite the real physical challenges each of them faced in recent years. Nothing stopped them. That kind of quiet, steady mesirus nefesh said more about who Rabbi Porter was. It gave his words authenticity and made people trust him, follow him, and grow because of him.

Rabbi Porter leaves behind a legacy that is both broad and profound, within the Baltimore community, around the world, and within his beautiful family, including my dear friend R’ Yisroel. But he also leaves behind a message for all of us: open your heart a little more. Make room for another Jew. Create space the way he did, without keeping score and without needing credit.

If we can carry even a small piece of that forward, his Etz Chaim will keep growing.