Every week of the year, something to come back for.

Friday night at the Fleishman House. Candles, challah, wine, a real home-cooked meal, and a room full of Jewish Blue Devils.

No experience needed. No fee. No RSVP for most weeks. Just show up. Walk-ins land at the table next to the kid who’s been coming for four years.

If it’s your first time, text us so we save you a seat: (984) 367-9139.

Family Weekend at Duke is the year’s busiest Shabbat. Parents fly in. Grandparents drive up from Florida. Siblings tag along.

We set the long tables, double the brisket, and let your family see the home you’ve built here. The vibe is loud, warm, and slightly emotional, in a good way.

Bring everyone. Email office@chabadatdukeug.com so we plan the count.

A serious learning society for students who want the depth Torah actually offers. Eight sessions, fifteen students, real conversations about identity, ethics, purpose, and what it means to be Jewish on a campus like Duke.

You walk away with a stipend, a community, and a meaningful Shabbaton in New York with cohorts from other top schools.

Applications open each semester. Email us if you want in.

A free 10-day trip to Israel for Jewish students ages 18–26. Same Birthright you’ve heard about. But on the Mayanot bus, with a Chabad at Duke cohort, led by people who actually know you.

Most students tell us it was the most meaningful trip of their lives. Most students also come back asking what’s next.

Talk to us before you sign up. We’ll get you on the right bus.

Every Jewish student at Duke should have a mezuzah on their door. It’s a small piece of parchment, a piece of home, and a quiet kind of pride.

We give them out free. We come hang them. We help you understand what the words inside mean.

Request one for yourself, your roommate, or your kid: office@chabadatdukeug.com.

Students gather in the Fleishman House kitchen, knead, braid, and bake. Then we deliver the loaves to families in Durham who need a little extra love that week: new parents, the bereaved, the sick, the lonely.

You leave with flour on your hoodie and the strange, good feeling of having spent an hour on someone else.

Walk in any Friday afternoon. We always need more hands.