Sara and Barry have been married for a number of years now. Their lives have settled into a comfortable routine and an almost predictable pattern.

Like most couples, Sara and Barry have their occasional arguments, but in general, their relationship is an amicable one. They feel a definite level of comfort with one another.

Perhaps too much comfort.

As of late, Sara has been feeling nagging doubts about their relationship. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that her marriage is missing its original magic. With the passage of time, it has become stale, with neither she nor Barry putting forth much effort to ignite its flames of passion or infuse it with the original sweet love that attracted them to one another.

It is almost as if their relationship has slipped into default mode. Yes, it is functional and works, but it is operating on autopilot. They spend time together, but it's not time that's spent "connecting" with each other and deepening their bond. As of late, it's more like him sitting on the sofa reading his papers, and her sitting at the kitchen table working on hers. Their outings together are more about rushing to take care of tedious errands rather than the stolen, romantic getaways of the past.

Sara craves those special tender moments. She yearns for the times when her husband would demonstrate to her in so many ways -- through words, gestures and actions -- just how much he loved her. She had felt cherished then, felt that spending time with her was more important to him than any business meetings, more enjoyable than any social gatherings, and more pressing than any of the myriad responsibilities that daily life entails.

Sara realizes that their marriage needs an infusion of effort, of thought and concern. She understands that she and Barry need to snap out of "autopilot" mode, and proactively instill their relationship with love and affection.

"If only you will walk in My statutes (chukim) and observe My commandments and perform them ..." (Leviticus 26:3).

Rashi: That you shall labor in the study of Torah in order to observe and fulfill the commandments.

"... If however, you will walk casually with Me and have no desire to listen to Me ... I too, will act casually with you" (ibid. 26:21, 23–24).

Rashi: Casually, irregularly, by chance, [something occurring] only occasionally.

The husband-and-wife paradigm is often used to depict the relationship between G-d and the Jewish people. This is because no other relationship exemplifies the cultivation of such deep and dynamic growth.

While the relationship between a parent and a child is strong, that love is constant and steadfast. Though the love grows, the disparity between what it was and what it becomes is usually not radical. The love has always been there, and normally always remains. It is thus missing the constant infusion of energy and effort necessary to develop it and help it grow stronger.

In a healthy marriage, however, the love between spouses must deepen and grow, or the relationship is at risk of becoming static and stale.

This is true with our "marriage" to G-d as well. It is not enough for our relationship to remain in "default mode," with the knowledge, in the background, that G-d is always there for us when we really need Him.

We need to connect with G-d in real "communication," rather than just passing the moments of prayer on autopilot, without giving it much concentration or energy. We need to spend moments of our day thinking about how we can help the relationship develop and grow stronger, doing something "special" for Him.

This is laboring in Torah, growing in our practice of making G-d a real part of our day and our lives.

To "labor" means to strain ourselves to the limit, going outside of the limitations of our ego, finding or creating room for something other than our own selves, our own wants and needs.

This is also the meaning of walking in G-d's statutes. "Walking" implies a constant progression to a new level, to an even higher faith and commitment, to a greater awareness and understanding of what G-d desires from us.

That is why the Torah uses the word chukim, "statutes," when referring to the mitzvot in the above verse. Chukim are those laws that defy our logic or intellectual capacity. These are not laws that we would derive on our own because they make sense to us, or because we can appreciate their moral imperative.

Our relationship with G-d must be deeper than what makes sense to our limited understanding. It must extend beyond what seems to work for us, or what neatly fits into the time slots of our daily schedules.

The word chok also means "engraved." The implication is that Torah must become so much a part of our being that it is engraved into our mindset and is as important to us as our very life. Internalizing Torah means making its teachings a part of our essential selves, to the extent that we remain committed to it even if it feels contrary to our nature, because we have made the Torah's will our own.

If we show such effort in our relationship with G-d, He promises us all the greatest material and spiritual blessings. These blessings encompass every type of bliss -- everything contained in reality from aleph (the first Hebrew letter) to tav (the last Hebrew letter). The blessings in the opening verses of our Parshah therefore begin with the letter aleph (in the word im, "if only") and end with the letter tav (in the word komemiyut, in verse 13).

The climactic spiritual blessing is G-d's promise, "I will set My dwelling among you" -- we will dwell together with G-d in absolute unison and harmony, in deep love and devotion.

If, however, we take our "marriage" for granted, and we walk "casually" with G-d, then we establish an entire different mode for our relationship, and G-d reciprocates in kind.

The most terrible of punishments is for G-d to say, "Have it your way. If you want an autopilot relationship that is effort-free and concern-free, I'll do the same. What happens to you is of no significance to Me." This is G-d acting "casually" toward us, as if He really doesn't care about us or our connection with Him.

Because the most destructive thing for a relationship is leaving it to its own devices, allowing it to self-destruct through casual neglect.

For only when there is an infusion of thought, concern, love and passion -- only when there is laboring in a relationship -- can the love endure. And grow.