A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of a Course in Miracles
Marianne Williamson
Rabbi Sharon Brous shows how simply being present for people, in grief, in celebration and across divides, eases loneliness, gives life its meaning and offers a starting point for repairing a fractured society.

1 min 08 sec
If you have ever stood outside a hospital room or a mourner’s home unsure whether you belong there, Rabbi Sharon Brous has a plain answer: go in, and say little. In The Amen Effect, the founding rabbi of IKAR in Los Angeles builds that answer on a fairly obscure passage of the Mishnah, an ancient Jewish text. It describes pilgrims at the Temple Mount, where people with broken hearts walked the opposite way through the crowd and were simply asked what had happened to them.
Brous argues that this old custom holds the remedy for a lonely, divided age. Being present for each other, in grief and in joy, is how hearts mend, how people find the nerve to live their purpose and how a broken society begins to repair. Her stories come from two decades of bedside vigils, funerals and celebrations, including the times she got it wrong. Expect to learn what to say, or leave unsaid, when someone is hurting, why good news needs witnesses and why waiting for permission keeps people from their own calling.
1 min 35 sec
An ancient crowd of pilgrims all moved in one direction, except for a few who walked the other way. What the crowd did when it met them may be the oldest cure for loneliness we have.
1 min 43 sec
After a terrible crash, strangers filled a grieving mother’s home, and her own mother suspected them of gawking. Another bereaved parent saw the scene very differently, and her reading changes what it means to visit.
1 min 39 sec
Many people stay away from mourners because they fear saying the wrong thing. An ancient prayer solves that problem by giving everyone in the room exactly one word to say, again and again.
1 min 41 sec
When someone we love is hurting, we reach for advice, plans and silver linings. Brous suggests that impulse often misses what the person needs, and she admits the times she missed it herself.
1 min 45 sec
Turning up for a friend’s promotion can sting more than turning up for their loss. Brous explains why you should go anyway, and how one dying woman taught her to hold beauty and pain together.
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Three hundred people wrote down what they were secretly waiting for, and the cards revealed a pattern that brought their rabbi to tears. It is a pattern many of us share without noticing.
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A lonely society is usually a divided one too. Brous carries the practice of witness past friends and family toward strangers, while asking honestly when it is wiser to step back.
1 min 15 sec
The Amen Effect makes a modest claim with a long reach. Hearts break in private but mend in company, and the habits that carry one family through a funeral are the same ones a fractured society has let slip. Brous offers no quick fix. She offers an old pattern instead: one person walks against the crowd, and another stops to ask what happened.
That pattern asks things anyone can do this week. Go to the house you are afraid to enter, and say less than you think you must. Before offering a solution, ask what would help. Turn up for a friend’s good news even when it stings, and tell someone about your own. And if you have been quietly waiting for permission to start something, remember the note Erin left her sons about looking inward for what gives you energy.
Brous closes the book with brief practical suggestions, but the spirit behind them fits in one image. Someday you will be the one walking the wrong way through the crowd. What you practice now is what you will hope to hear then: amen, I see you, you are not alone.
Most people want to help when a friend is grieving, and most hesitate at the door, unsure what to say. Rabbi Sharon Brous argues that the hesitation is the real problem, and that it reaches far beyond funerals. She sees loneliness, isolation and social breakdown as a spiritual crisis, and she finds the remedy in a fairly obscure ancient text about pilgrims at the Temple Mount. There, the brokenhearted walked against the crowd, and others stopped to ask what had happened to them. Drawing on two decades of leading IKAR, the Los Angeles community she founded, Brous tells stories of bedside vigils, shattered families and celebrations. They include a mother who lost both teenage children, a congregant facing terminal cancer and 300 people writing their secret longings on index cards. She explains the single word at the heart of the Mourner's Kaddish, amen, as a promise of witness. Readers get a practical ethic of presence: how to visit, what to say and not say, why joy needs witnesses, why waiting for permission stalls a life, and how to carry the same attention to strangers on the other side of a divide.
People who freeze when a friend is grieving or ill and want to know how to help.
Team leads and community builders trying to create belonging in lonely, divided groups.
Readers searching for meaning who feel they are waiting for permission to live their calling.
Sharon Brous is an American rabbi, born in 1973, and the founding rabbi of IKAR, a Jewish congregation in Los Angeles. She has offered blessings at the National Inaugural Prayer Services of Presidents Obama and Biden. Newsweek and The Daily Beast once named her the most influential rabbi in the United States, and she has given a TED Talk called Reclaiming Religion.
Listeners find this work deeply stimulating, as one individual notes it delivers fundamental truths regarding the human experience. Furthermore, the writing is described as articulate, lucid, and aesthetically pleasing in its delivery. Listeners also value its restorative quality; one person states it offers a new outlook on resilience, while another observes that it helps lead people toward their true purpose. The core message strikes a chord with listeners, including one who emphasizes its relevance to everyday living.
Ever wonder what it really means to 'show up' for someone when the world is falling apart? Sharon Brous offers an answer that is both ancient and incredibly modern. I expected a standard self-help book, but this is a masterclass in human connection. She uses the 'Amen Effect' to illustrate how our presence validates another's pain and joy alike. It’s a beautiful, soul-stirring exploration of why we need community now more than ever. Not gonna lie, I cried through the entire epilogue. It's a rare book that makes you want to be a better neighbor, friend, and human being immediately after closing the cover. The stories are drawn from her practice as a rabbi but feel universal in their healing power.
Show moreWow. This book hit me exactly when I needed it. Sharon Brous has written a healing manual for a broken society. Personally, I found the stories from her rabbinical practice to be the highlight, as they provide a concrete roadmap for resilience. She explains how showing up—even when it's awkward or inconvenient—is the greatest gift we can offer. The prose is gorgeous and the tone is incredibly inviting throughout. It’s not just a book to read; it’s a book to live by. I’ll be buying several copies for my friends who are going through a hard time this year. This is essential reading for anyone looking to rediscover their life's purpose.
Show morePicked this up on a whim and I am so glad I did. The central premise—that we find ourselves through our connections to others—is so simple yet so easily forgotten in our digital age. Brous writes with a mix of rigor and humor that keeps the heavy subject matter from feeling too burdensome. In my experience, most books on community stay at a surface level, but this one dives deep into the 'Amen Effect' of mutual recognition. It’s a profound call to action for anyone feeling isolated. Truly a magnificent work that captures the essence of what it means to be alive and present for one another.
Show moreTruth is, I needed this perspective on resilience more than I realized. In a world that feels increasingly polarized, this book serves as a beautiful reminder of the bravery required to truly see one another. Brous doesn't shy away from the messy parts of life—the grief, the loss, and the inconvenient timing of bad news. Instead, she teaches us how to hold space for that messiness. The writing style is elegant and the tone is consistently hopeful without being naive. It’s the kind of book that restores your faith in the potential of humanity and the power of a simple, shared 'Amen.' It’s thought-provoking and deeply moving.
Show moreThe chapter on presence was particularly moving for me. Brous argues that simply being there for someone is a profound act of love, and she backs it up with incredibly moving stories. Not gonna lie, I was skeptical at first, but her humanity and warmth won me over. The book is well-written and avoids the usual clichés found in the self-help genre. It offers a clear-eyed look at how we can rebuild our social fabric one intentional connection at a time. It’s a thought-provoking read that I’ve already recommended to my book club. This isn't just theory; it's a practical guide for living a more connected and purposeful life.
Show moreAfter hearing so much buzz about 'The Amen Effect,' I finally dove in and was not disappointed. It’s a magnificent exploration of how we can navigate the joys and sorrows of life together. Brous has a gift for articulating the essential truths of the human experience in a way that feels fresh and vital. The stories are heart-warming and provide a necessary perspective on how to juggle the ambiguity of modern existence. It’s a deeply moving work that captures the importance of showing up for your neighbors in a meaningful way. If you’re looking for a book that offers both wisdom and wonder, this is the one.
Show moreAs a non-religious reader, I was hesitant about a book written by a rabbi, but the wisdom here is universal. Brous draws on Jewish tradition to tackle very contemporary problems like loneliness and social fragmentation. The writing is clear and evocative, making complex theological ideas feel like a cozy conversation over coffee. Look, there are moments where it feels a bit idealistic, and I struggled with some of the theological reasoning behind why suffering occurs. However, the core message about the power of 'with-ness' is undeniable and deeply practical for anyone navigating grief. It’s a timely meditation on finding purpose through our shared humanity. The perspective on resilience she offers is something I'll carry with me.
Show moreThe way Sharon Brous weaves together ancient texts and modern psychology is genuinely impressive. She makes lessons from Jewish tradition feel like they were written for today's headlines. To be fair, some of the anecdotes felt a little too 'perfectly resolved' to be entirely believable, which made me a bit skeptical at times. However, the focus on 'with-ness' and the importance of showing up during both birthdays and burials is a necessary reminder for our distracted culture. While the political section at the end felt a little underdeveloped, the book as a whole is a powerful argument for the criticality of human connection. It resonates deeply with daily life.
Show moreListening to the author narrate the audiobook was a fantastic experience that I highly recommend. You can hear the empathy and passion in her voice as she discusses the necessity of community. Truth is, our world is wracked by a crisis of loneliness, and Brous offers a partial salve that feels both doable and deeply radical. I appreciated how accessible she made these lessons for non-Jews. While I sometimes felt she glossed over the 'why' of suffering—a struggle many theistic writers like Kushner face—the practical advice on how to be present is worth its weight in gold. It’s a short but mighty tome that I’ll likely revisit.
Show moreFinally got around to this after seeing it everywhere, and I have mixed feelings. On one hand, the sections on grief and how to support friends through loss are stellar—truly some of the most practical advice I’ve read. But frankly, the ending felt a bit disconnected from the rest of the book. Her attempt to bridge political divides felt one-sided, failing to truly empathize with those who hold different views without labeling them as ignorant or malevolent. It left a slightly sour taste after such a compassionate start. Still, it’s a well-written book with some profound insights into community building, even if it falls short of its loftiest goals regarding social fabric.
Show moreSharon Brous argues that the remedy for loneliness and social breakdown is presence: showing up for people in sorrow and in joy and affirming that they are seen. She builds this on an ancient Mishnah describing the Temple Mount, where the brokenhearted walked against the crowd and were asked what had happened to them. For Brous, today’s troubles are a spiritual crisis, and repair starts with learning to really see one another.
Brous traces amen to the Hebrew emunah, meaning to believe or affirm. When a mourner recites the Mourner’s Kaddish, the community answers amen after each line, which she reads as I’m with you, I hear you and I am bearing witness. Saying amen to someone, in her view, means acknowledging them: I believe you, I see you, and you are not alone.
Show up, even when it feels awkward. Brous tells of Gail, who lost both teenage children in a crash; another bereaved mother told her that anyone who entered her home was a friend, because it was the most frightening place on earth. Brous teaches bearing with-ness: ask what the person wants, sit beside them knowing you cannot fix it, and visit the sick in person.
No. Brous writes as a rabbi and draws on Jewish texts and rituals, but she argues that connection and solidarity are universal, with each tradition expressing them in its own language. She also says showing up is not reserved for clergy: anyone can practice presence, and when enough people do, it becomes the power of community.
Brous saw a recurring pattern in her congregation: when 300 people wrote down what they were secretly waiting for, many were waiting for someone else’s approval, to be called talented or told they were loved. Her answer is that no outside voice can confirm your worth. Erin, a congregant dying of cancer, urged others not to postpone their calling, since no one has forever.
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