The conversation had repeated itself so many times that Sara could almost predict the exact dialogue.

She and her husband would be having a difference of opinion, each seeing the matter from their own perspective. He would explain to her the rational merits of his position. She would counter by elaborating on why, from her experience, he erred and it should be done her way.

The pattern consistently repeated itself, they both argued, disagreed, and eventually ended up in cold silence. Then one day, Sara tried a different approach.

She didn't debate the merits of her perspective. She didn't even explain why she wanted the particular thing done "her way." Instead, Sara simply said: "I know this isn't the way you see it. But please, do it just for me!"

Her husband’s reaction astonished her. He gazed at her intently and then agreeably acquiesced.

Rational explanations sometimes fall short.

People are different. We have different outlooks, different needs, and different ways of viewing reality. And what works for me may not be optimal for you, so rationally trying to convince you to do things “my” way can be ineffective.

For example, I can explain and explain to my husband until I'm blue in the face why he should do something “my” way, only for both of us to land at square one with each not having moved an inch towards the other's perspective.

So rather than trying to convince him, I’ve learned to simply ask, "Please, just do it for me."

This won’t persuade him of the merits of my way, which he obviously doesn't appreciate. But, he is willing to make personal sacrifices in order to prove his love to me. If doing something “for me” demonstrates how much he cares about my wants and how important I am in his life, he is willing to give it a try.

Because that isn’t ‘giving in’ to ‘my’ way, but is rather an opportunity for him to express the importance of our relationship—a bond that is so deep, it surpasses even personal perspectives, reasons, or logic.

The commandments of the Torah are divided into three generalcategories: eidot, testimonies; chukim, decrees; and mishpatim, laws.

Eidot are commandments that recall or testify to past significant events. Examples are Shabbat, or the holidays.

Mishpatim are commandments that are understandable; we would almost certainly have instituted them if G‑d had not commanded. Examples are honoring our parents, giving charity, and not stealing or murdering.

Chukkim are mitzvot, like the laws of kashrut or family purity, which we accept as divine decrees, despite their incomprehensibility.

The most enigmatic of these laws is the law of the red heifer, “This is the chukah of the Torah…”

“This is the chukah of the Torah,” (rather than “this is the chukah of the red heifer”) indicates that this inexplicable decree is the Torah—meaning, it is a foundation for the entire Torah. All the commandments, whether understandable or not, are expressions of G‑d’s Will and transcend logic, even those commandments that are clothed within logic.

Because in truth, every mitzvah is a chok, an expression of our Creator's will. We can appreciate many of the mitzvot in a rational context, realizing how they enhance our lives by introducing more spirituality or morality. What distinguishes the chok is that it comes to us pure, without any rational "garments." It transcends our conscious powers, and touches us to the core.

Chukim remind us that we are committed to do the commandments only and simply because we are committed to G‑d, Who cannot be comprehended by any mortal intellect. The reason why we keep the commandments, logical or supra-rational, (even if deep down we know it is for our benefit) is because G‑d has asked us. And only through chukim does this truth become evident.

Doing commandments just because G‑d asks demonstrates that our relationship with G‑d is far deeper than our individual experiences or personal conceptions. It reveals a bond that surpasses circumstances, logic, and argument.

It reaches to the very core of our relationship.