If, in accordance with Ashkenazi practice, your custom is to light your own candles even when at home, it is certainly appropriate for you to light while away at college. For sepharadim who follow the rulings of the Shulchan Aruch, it is certainly reasonable to participate in one’s parents’ lighting from afar, unless it will either (1) be conspicuous to others that one has not lit, or (2) one is in an environment where one will not otherwise see chanukah candles. 

Many poskim hold that one should ideally light in their rooms, as this is the place on campus that uniquely “belongs” to the individual student (see e.g. Igrot Moshe Yoreh Deah III:14). But given that many universities have strict no-fire policies in the dormitories, it is both legitimate and advisable to light either at the entrance to the dormitory or in the communal dining hall, as per local custom. 

It goes without saying that, as compared to davening alone, davening with a minyan represents a critical spiritual opportunity. Moreover, according to some poskim it is a full-fledged obligation. 

On a straightforward reading of the sources, however, it seems that minyan attendance is better understood as an aspiration. The language of the Shulchan Aruch is that “One should endeavor to pray with the congregation in a synagogue” (Orach Chaim 90:9, emphasis added). Minyan-attendance should thus rank high among one’s priorities, but it is not necessarily overriding. And in fact a precise measure is given: One is not required to travel more than one mil, or an eighteen-minute walk, from their home in order to attend minyan (see Orach Chaim 90:17 and Mishnah Berurah ad loc). 

I think it is obvious that this assumes that one is otherwise preoccupied with making a livelihood, learning Torah, or the like, such that a twenty-minute walk would truly represent a substantial sacrifice. But the point remains that to the extent there is an obligation to attend minyan, it can be legitimately outweighed by one’s everyday priorities. If going to minyan means that you can’t do what you need to do, or even that doing what you need to do will be substantially more difficult, you are not required to go to minyan.  

But here is precisely where the framing in terms of aspiration and endeavoring becomes important. Even if being twenty minutes away from the nearest shul means one is not obligated to attend, given the choice one should obviously do what one can to live closer in the first place. Similarly, if your other commitments make it too difficult for you to attend minyan regularly, it is worth reflecting on whether and how you might restructure your schedule so as to make minyan more feasible. There is nothing wrong with being overwhelmed here and there. It’s part of the college experience, and the truth is that your daily schedule will only grow fuller as you move into the workforce and God-willing raise a family. But this is all the more reason to make sure that minyan is one among your highest priorities, and that you find a way to commit with some kind of consistency. 

 It is also important to understand that the imperative to attend minyan is not only, and maybe even not primarily, something between you and Hashem. The Shulchan Aruch says that one who has a beit kenesset in their town and does not enter is “called a bad neighbor [shachen ra]” (Orach Chaim 90:11). Put positively, one who does enter their local shul is a good neighbor – attending minyan is an expression of care for and responsibility to your community. Especially on campus, where numbers are often small, your presence at minyan means a lot, and you are missed when you’re not there. As reflected in the halachot discussed above, the other members of your kehilah will certainly understand that there are times when it’s just too hard for you to be there. But they’ll be all the more grateful when you aspire and endeavor to be there when you can. 

We live in a place and time where religious difference is often a cause for celebration rather than enmity, and where we are able to carry on relationships of meaning and purpose with our Christian neighbors. We may even come to see value and beauty in their religion, as they may in ours – especially in a pointedly secular environment, our similarities may come to seem more salient than our differences. And we may, on good liberal grounds, be uncomfortable judging anyone’s religion to be wrong, let alone objectionable. 

It remains, however, that our differences with Christianity are real and deep, and we should see that our very respect for them, and for ourselves, mandates that we take these differences seriously. There is an old debate about precisely how to characterize Christianity with respect to the halakhic prohibition on idolatry, but all agree that affirming the divinity of Jesus, for instance, is beyond the pale for Jews. In R. Hayim David Halevi’s (1924-1988) formulation, “I know of no reliable rabbinic decisor who holds that Christianity is not idolatry in the halakhic sense of that term” (Aseh Lekha Rav 1:59). The oneness of God is at the root of who we are, and it is not for nothing that many of our ancestors gave their lives rather than compromise on this principle. 

Given that Christianity has the status of idolatry within halakha, it is strictly prohibited to enter a Church, both because it may appear that one intends to worship there, and because one may benefit in any way from an idolatrous object. As the Rambam puts it, given the standing prohibition on entering a “city in which there is idolatry” (Mishnah Avodah Zara 1:4), it is “all the more so with regard to a church itself, upon which it is all but prohibited to so much as gaze upon, certainly to draw close to, and certainly to enter!” (Rambam, Commentary on the Mishnah to Avodah Zara 1:4). According to some authorities, this injunction may apply even where failure to enter the church entails mortal danger to the Jewish community (see opinion of Rashba quoted in Tur, Yoreh Deah 149). Others simply stress that while, in principle, considerations of piku’ach nefesh would warrant entry into a church, one should submit any claim that this is truly necessary to strict scrutiny (see Yabia Omer VII, Yoreh Deah 12). In any case it is clear that this is not a prohibition to take lightly. 

There is arguably a difference, however, between a church sanctuary and other rooms within a larger church building. Poskim (see e.g. Teshuvot Ve-Hanhagot 2:410) have permitted entering into church basements or social halls in order to vote where necessary, for instance, since it would be clear to any observer in that context that one was indeed entering to vote and not to worship. On university campuses, given that space is often at a premium, church-adjacent spaces will often be designated for regular mundane use and as such it may be permissible to enter them for manifestly mundane purposes. In such cases I would still recommend discussing the matter with a rabbi who grasps the concrete specifics and local context. 

Thank God, most of us, most of the time do not have to make significant sacrifices in holding fast to halakha and our identity as Jews. We attend the best schools and expect to be accommodated at virtually every front. Standing outside while our tour group goes through a church can be not only awkward and difficult but spiritually jarring, as we realize that we are in fact still different. This is a vital realization to have, and in particular we should cherish the opportunity for solidarity with our many forebears who staked their lives on the proposition that Jewish difference matters precisely because it embodies the claim that Hashem and His name are indeed one.

The most important thing is that you establish a relationship of goodwill and trust with your roommates. Clearly articulate to them how important kashrut is to you, explain what this involves in detail, and invite them to ask questions. In the contemporary world, most people will be eager to help you in maintaining your commitment to halakha, and your relationship with them will only be strengthened by bringing them into partnership on this sacred and deeply personal enterprise. 

You should have your own designated cooking utensils, dishes, and tableware kept in a clearly demarcated area. Once you have explained that these need to be reserved for your use only, then unless you encounter evidence to the contrary, you can trust that your roommates are honoring this boundary.   

You should assume that the oven, stovetop, and microwave are non-kosher. But that does mean that you cannot use them. You may cook food in the oven if it is tightly double wrapped in foil. You may cook on the stovetop as long as you are careful to ensure the grates are clean and free of residue. And you may use the microwave as long as the microwave is clean, the food is well covered, and the dish is separated from the floor of the microwave. 

Kosher food stored in the refrigerator should be labeled and placed in a clearly designated area, and raw meat should remain in a sealed package. Wine and grape juice should be labeled mevushal. 

You may certainly cook for and share food with your roommates. If your roommate would like to cook for you, it is important that you be present and that you directly participate in the cooking process. For Ashkenazim it is sufficient to simply turn on the flame. 

Yes. Even if the card is often used for forbidden functions (e.g. swiping in the dining hall, opening electronic doors), its primary function is the permissible one of corroborating your identity. It is thus a utensil for permitted labor (kli she-melakhto l-heter) and as such may be carried if it will be of use. 

It goes without saying that the halakhic sexual ethic differs from the prevailing mores on many college campuses. At the same time, however, there is an increasing appreciation for the importance of clear boundaries, avoiding compromising situations, and securing against even the potential appearance of impropriety. Many professional codes specify conditions limiting when and how meetings should take place. The laws of yichud, meant both to prevent halachically illicit consensual liaisons as well as assault (Beit Shmuel EH 22:15), should be appreciated in this spirit as in place for our protection. 

The details of yichud are complex, debated, and situation-dependent, and so rabbinic consultation on borderline cases is recommended. But it is possible to set out some broad-stroke guidelines. Outside of family contexts, the prohibition of yichud applies between any man and any woman, married or single, Jewish or non-Jewish. One-on-one meetings should ideally take place in full public view, and at least in a place regularly and freely accessed without invitation. A closed study-room in the library could thus be acceptable if windows allow easy visibility from outside, or it would be normal for someone to simply walk in unannounced. You should be mindful not only of the room but of the time of day, as it may be that, for example, after a certain hour at night it is no longer likely that anyone will enter a certain room (see Be’er Hetev EH 22:9). In any case it is always advisable to avoid being behind a closed door without windows.

It is important that the yichud prohibition can apply in secluded environments even where there are multiple men and women present. Again, these questions are often complex and situation-specific – care and consultation are recommended.

 Overall, it is vital that you approach the social realities on campus with intention, purpose, and firm boundaries. The laws of yichud, while sometimes challenging, can help significantly.  

It is important to understand that there are two aspects of the mitzvah of shabbat candles: (1) The performance of lighting candles, with a bracha, at the outset of shabbat, and (2) the functional securing of adequate illumination in your living space over the course of shabbat for the sake of comfort and domestic harmony. Whatever we say about (1), any student living in a dormitory or off-campus apartment should take a moment before shabbat to mindfully turn on any lights (e.g. bathroom, hallway, living room, night light, reading light) that will improve their shabbat experience. Where there are no such lights to turn on yourself, so long as you will have adequate illumination in your living space, this part of the requirement is effectively fulfilled.  

There are poskim who believe that a student whose parents pay their tuition bills, even when living on their own, are properly considered as subsumed under their parents’ family unit rather than independent heads-of-household. As such, so long as you have adequate illumination in your living space, there would be no further need to light candles with a bracha. Many poskim, however, do understand students living away from home to be independent heads of their own households, even where they remain financially reliant on their parents. And experientially, both students themselves and their parents see and intend the college years as a period of real, even if still incipient, adulthood. College students are and should be beginning to take responsibility for their own spiritual environments. 

Finally, over and beyond the functional need for illumination, lighting shabbat candles has come to be a critical component of the shabbat experience, a performative marker of sacred time and space. The very fact that the mitzvah has maintained its aura despite the modern ubiquity of electrical illumination highlights its experiential, rather than functional, purpose. It is certainly worthwhile, therefore, to light candles with a bracha yourself, along with ensuring the lights are on where you’ll need them.

Is there a difference between men and women?

Lighting shabbat candles has, in the traditional Jewish household setting, been the woman’s domain, and many women cherish the mitzvah both in itself and as a moment of reflective prayer. There is, however, no fundamental difference between men and women with regard to the obligation. 

Where should I light?

You should ideally light in (1) your own private space, and within your private space, in (2) the room where you’ll be eating shabbat dinner. This becomes complicated when one is eating elsewhere than their own private space, such as in a university dining hall or friend’s apartment. If possible, you should first turn on the lights in your own living space, having in mind to fulfill the mitzvah of lighting shabbat candles, and then light candles with a bracha where you’ll be having dinner. In some yeshivot, to avoid the functional redundancy of multiple candles, the practice is for one person to light in the dining hall on behalf of everyone. But given the relatively diffuse nature of even the most tight-nit college communities, it will often make sense for individuals to light on their own. 

If lighting in the dining hall is not possible, you should try to light in your own space. Given that universities will generally not allow candles in the dormitories, and that one in any case should not leave fire unattended, you should suffice with turning on electric lights. Many hold this can be done with a bracha.

Is there a difference between different kinds of electric light?

This is a complex question. Many poskim approve that incandescent bulbs, where a filament emits light and heat like a wick, qualify as shabbat candles and can be lit with a bracha. Others believe the “wick” must be fueled by a local, discrete fuel source, comparable to a candle’s oil, and so require that the bulb be battery-powered. Some allow incandescent and LED lights, as these are now our standard way of illuminating our homes, while others insist these are too far from the traditionally required flame. Others insist that, whatever form of lights are used, it should be clear that they are lit specifically for shabbat. 

Based on all this, it is a good idea to set up either electric tea-lights or night-lights dedicated for shabbat. You should turn on the lights you’ll need in your living space and then light the electric bulbs, all with intention to fulfill the mitzvah. According to many, this can be done with a bracha.

How early can I light?

Generally, shabbat candles should not be lit prior to plag ha-mincha, as otherwise it may not be clear that the candles are lit specifically for shabbat. In many college communities, however, shabbat dinner will be held at a set time every week regardless of sundown, and in the summer months this can require students to leave their rooms to be at tefilah before plag. Under these circumstances, it is acceptable to light earlier, as was the practice of many communities in Northern Europe.

1 See Biur Halacha, OC 263, s.v. Bachurim
2 R. Mordechai Willig, https://www.yutorah.org/sidebar/lecture.cfm/731990/rabbi-mordechai-i-willig/the-positive-mitzvos-of-shabbos/
3 See for instance Aruch Ha-Shulchan, 26.
4 OC 263:3.
5 OC 263:2.
6 See Mishnah Berurah, OC 263:2.
7 See Shemirat Shabbat K-Hilchata, 45:11.
8 The Shulchan Aruch does recommend against making a bracha when lighting in a place where others have already lit, but Ashkenazi custom is to allow lighting with a bracha, as the additional candles will contribute to the ambience. This is all the more plausible under contemporary reality where we are in any case not reliant on candle-light for illumination.

On shabbat we aim not only to avoid the fixed set of specifically prohibited activities but to carefully craft a comprehensive environment of sacred rest. ֹThis is an enterprise of proactive, affirmative displacement: We should not walk, talk, or dress on shabbat the way we do during the week (Shabbat 117a), and generally we should push all mundane endeavor out of view, focusing our attention exclusively on Torah, tefilah, family, and community. The world of affairs should not exist for us on shabbat, because on shabbat, shabbat is our world. And it should feel like it. If at all possible, therefore, I strongly recommend you avoid going to class on shabbat or yom tov, as even assuming that going does not involve any technical violation, it will certainly detract from your shabbat experience. The chaotic pressures of college life are all the more reason to take extra care in fulfilling the mandate of weekly rest. 

It is important to know, however, that there are considerations in favor of allowance. The Rambam, cited by the Shulchan Aruch, writes that it is forbidden to read anything other than Torah, even works of science [“chochma min ha-chachmot”], on shabbat (Peirush ha-mishnah, Shabbat 23:2, Shulchan Aruch 307:17). For the Rambam, who cannot be suspected of undervaluing secular wisdom, shabbat mandates exclusive intellectual focus on the study of Torah. However, the Shulchan Aruch notes that the Rashba and Ramban do allow one to read works of science, and notes that according to this permissive view one should be allowed to make use of an astrolabe, a medieval device for performing astronomical calculations. The Mishna Berura writes that our practice is to follow the permissive view. Additionally, while the Shulchan Aruch writes that it is prohibited to engage in too much idle conversation [“sicha beteila”], the Rema clarifies that someone who enjoys chatting about current events and the like may indulge in this pleasure (OC 307:1). It would seem, therefore, that to the extent you find your class edifying, or at least enjoyable, there are grounds to permit attendance. 

 The Magen Avraham (citing the Terumat Ha-Deshen) writes that just as one may practice writing by making the relevant motions with their hands, one may watch someone else performing prohibited labor for the sake of learning the craft (Magen Avraham OC 340:4). R. Mordechai Yaakov Breisch cites this in arguing that a medical student may attend a cadaver dissection on shabbat (Chelkat Yaakov YD 190). He also notes that one is allowed to engage in contractual negotiations toward the end of securing vocational training for one’s child, as this qualifies as a mitzvah and pursuit of “the desires of heaven [“cheftzei shamayim” (OC 306:6). So too, he argues, it is a mitzvah for the medical student “to have a vocation with which he can earn a dignified livelihood,” and so it is permitted to attend the dissection. 

Additionally, R. Moshe Feinstein writes that, assuming no prohibited labor is involved, a drama student may participate in a performance on shabbat on the grounds that (1) they enjoy it, and in any case, (2) failure to participate will cause them distress and perhaps eventual financial loss on account of disappointing their instructor (Igrot Moshe OC 2:79). And so again, insofar as your presence in class really is necessary for your doing well in school, maintaining good relations with your professors, and thereby eventually earning a dignified livelihood, there are grounds to permit attendance.

With respect to the Magen Avraham’s ruling permitting educational observation of prohibited craftsmanship, the Mishnah Berurah adds that it would seem this is only allowed if it is done “without intention [b-akrai], when one simply happens upon the opportunity to watch,” and further that “one should not speak with the non-Jew whatsoever about the matter” (Mishnah Berurah to OC 340:4). It is plausible, albeit not obvious, that attending a weekday class which happens to follow out on a particular yom tov would qualify as without intention in the relevant sense. But the Mishnah Berurah’s second stricture is of considerable importance: If you do decide to attend class, you should take care to be as passive as possible. It is one thing to be a spectator to a non-sacred enterprise on shabbat or yom tov; it is another to be an active participant. You should endeavor, in every way you can, to sustain a clear awareness that, notwithstanding the environment, the day is shabbat.

9 The foundational text on this point is Beit Yitzchak, YD 120.
10 View attributed to R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach in Shemirat Shabbat K-Hilchata, 43:64 fn. 22. 9
11 Tzitz Eliezer 1:20:11.
12 OC 263:4.
13 See Minchat Asher, “Hadlakat Nerot Shabbat Lifnei Plag Ha-Mincha”: https://minchasasher.com/he/shiur/%d7%a4%d7%a8%d7%a9%d7%94-%d7%a9%d7%99%d7%a2%d7% 95%d7%a8%d7%99%d7%9d/hadlakat-nerot-shabbat-before-plag-hmincha/

Again, it is certainly ideal to conduct yourself on shabbat as if such events and goings-on simply do not exist, and achieving this mindset is central to the spiritual work of shabbat. However, not all events are the same, and it is not the case that cultural activities are prohibited as such. The Shemirat Shabbat K-Hilchata, for example, writes that it is permissible to purchase tickets to a zoo on Friday for use on shabbat. One is certainly allowed to go on a leisurely walk, and it would seem from the above that even the strictest views would allow you to stop and watch a performance you happen upon along your way. Many authorities disapprove of adults playing board games and the like, as the time is surely better spent learning Torah, but this does seem to be fundamentally permissible, perhaps even meritorious in the right contexts. And even as he certainly does not approve of the relevant background decisions, R. Moshe Feinstein explicitly allows a student to participate in a theatrical performance so long as no prohibitions are violated. We are allowed, even mandated, to enjoy our time on shabbat, and activities conducive to that end are not fundamentally prohibited. 

What is vital, though, is that the activity in fact amounts to enjoying, rather than supplanting, our experience of shabbat. While strolling around a zoo may be conducive to sustained awareness of the day’s sanctity, attending a raucous football game may arguably be less so. You can certainly imagine yourself getting caught up in the moment and forgetting that it’s shabbat. But there may be contexts in which, given that you are wearing your best shabbat finery, and you generally take care to mark the continued sanctity of the day however you can, that you can attend an event without breaking your focus. Whatever you do, what matters is that it you do it for the honor and enjoyment of shabbat.  

First, it is important to understand the true scope of the question here. Topics like biblical criticism and certain strands of p hilosophy pose direct challenges to traditional Jewish belief, and the study of idolatrous or otherwise foreign religious texts raises immediate warning flags from the perspective of traditional Jewish piety and propriety. But psychology, biology, economics, and literary studies, to name a few disciplines more or less at random, can also put forward views of human meaning incompatible with a sound religious perspective. And virtually anything can be taught in such a way, and with the right blend of charm and professed authority, as to recalibrate students’ intellectual and spiritual coordinates away from traditional belief and even practice. The gravity which this threat of recalibration represents mandates correspondingly not only great but comprehensive care and caution.

 The Rambam is clear in prohibiting not only reading books detailing idolatrous rites but even merely contemplating such ideas, even where one does not actually engage in the relevant practices, as even what is purported to be merely intellectual engagement “will cause one to turn after it and do as they do” (Avodah Zara 2:2). There is a clear understanding here that our minds and hearts are not easily cordoned off from each other, and so objects of our intellectual attention are liable to become objects of desire as well. It is hubris to think that one will not be affected by what they read, and so it is imperative to carefully curate one’s curriculum. 

Appealing to the injunction in the third paragraph of Shema not to “stray after your hearts or eyes,” the Rambam extends the ban beyond classical idolatry to any area of thought liable to undermine Jewish belief. “It is not only idolatry toward which one may not turn one’s attention in thought, but with respect to any idea which causes one to uproot a principle from among the principles of the Torah we are enjoined not to raise it in our hearts nor allow our minds to wander to them, to think and be pulled after the heart’s musings” (Avodah Zara 2:3). The reason for this, he says, is that “The human mind is weak, and not every mind can grasp the truth in its fullness. Thus if everyone were to be pulled after the thoughts of their hearts, they would wind up destroying the world in accordance with the weakness of their minds” (ibid). This is a powerful call for intellectual humility. One should not “Imagine to himself that he can grasp the truth with his own thought” (ibid). And because we cannot be trusted to think for ourselves, we must accept strict curricular limits. 

It can be argued that, despite the absence of qualification, the Rambam’s strictures here are meant to apply only to the average person who truly is unprepared for the rigors of theological exploration, and that one who is indeed so prepared may proceed without compunction. This certainly seems to match the Rambam’s own comportment. Moreover, the gemara allows the study of forbidden necromancy if it is to be done “to understand and to instruct [l-havin u-l-horot]” (Sanhedrin 68a), and while the paradigm of this allowance is a member of the Sanhedrin preparing to rule on relevant cases, it is plausible that anyone engaged in a comparably constructive Torah purpose would qualify. The question becomes what can honestly be characterized as such a purpose, and how to reliably gauge one’s true preparedness for the course of study in question.

Insofar as we do not accept a fully categorical prohibition on engagement with any even potentially challenging material, it would seem that these are not questions which can be decided in the abstract, and the answers will not be the same for every person nor for the same person in every situation. Honest reflection as to your motivations, proclivities, and aptitudes is imperative. 

What we can say with certainty from the sources cited above is that your intellectual journey is a site of substantial spiritual responsibility. In shaping your course of study, you should not only be avoiding that which might lead you astray, but proactively seeking to strengthen your commitment to Torah and yirat shamayim. This may at times involve choosing one class over another and the like. More basically, it will be a matter of ensuring your broader spiritual support structure is in place no matter what you do, that you are prepared in advance to encounter what you’ll encounter, and that throughout you remain focused on what it’s all ultimately about. 

14 For a wonderful exchange on this and related questions, see R. Yehuda Parnes, “Torah U-Madda and Freedom of Inquiry” in The Torah U-Madda Journal I (1989); the response from Drs. David Berger and Lawrence Kaplan, “On Freedom of Inquiry in the Rambam – and Today” in The Torah U-Madda Journal II (1990); and R. Parnes’ final rejoinder, “Response and Closure,” in The Torah U-Madda Journal III (1991-1992). R. Shalom Carmy’s response to the initial article is also of great interest – see his “The Nature of Inquiry: A Common Sense Perspective” in The Torah U-Madda Journal III (1991-1992).
15 This seems to be the import of the Meiri’s commentary to Shabbat 90a.

It is vital to understand two corollary truths in this regard. First, it is virtually impossible that you will be able to maintain a full yeshiva schedule or regimen of learning, or anything remotely like it, while in college. There will be days, when your class schedule is light, and your motivation is high, when you will successfully engage in many hours of satisfying, high-level learning. But there will be days when your term paper is due at midnight, or you’re staring down that big exam you haven’t started studying for. And there will be days when the sheer cornucopia of academic, extra-curricular, and social opportunities that are the stuff of campus life will leave your time and energy spread thin. Commitments to many hours a day of learning is something to approach with great caution, as the risk of failure is great, and failure may lead to disillusionment with the project of learning overall. 

Second, however, you absolutely can continue to grow in your learning while in college. The key, to go along with the requisite energy and passion, is consistency. Chazal knew that what matters in the end is not how much Torah you learn or know, but whether you “fix times for Torah” (Shabbat 31a). Commit to learning two mishnayot a day, set up a regular chavruta, find a weekly shiur to attend, do shnayim mikra assiduously, learn for ten minutes after davening. The details matter far less than that you make commitments you can stick to – and then stick to them. 

It is in principle best to prioritize practical halakhic knowledge and generally to focus on mastering the rudiments of Torah, as this is the bottom-line imperative of Torah learning. It is also true, however, that “A person can learn only from a place their heart desires” (Avodah Zarah 19a). And so while it is still important to push yourself, you should focus on whatever forms of learning you connect to, which you enjoy, and which motivate you. Use your mind, but don’t forget to listen to your heart. 

The natural forces in the college environment will generally push you in directions other than learning. It is vital, therefore, to sustain relationships and cultivate community around the project of Talmud Torah. This may involve connections with rebbeim, chavrutot, and friends from your past, and those connections can be critical. But there is no substitute for in-person community on the ground. Set up chavrutot, arrange shiurim and chaburot, create spaces on campus that pulse with the energy of a beit midrash. You may even find that there is far more interest in and passion for learning in your environment than you anticipated.

Generally speaking, a mezuzah is required for a residence rented or borrowed for a term of more than thirty days. Some argue that a dorm room does not qualify, as even if the university is contractually obligated to provide housing for you, it is likely not obligated to provide you this particular room, and could ask you to switch rooms at any time. As such, the room is at no point truly “yours,” and so a mezuzah is not necessary. It seems to me, however, that universities generally do in fact commit to their room assignments, and correspondingly, students do in fact regard their rooms as meaningfully “theirs” for the duration of the term. In some universities, the rights to specific rooms are won through lotteries! 

Moreover, the presence of a mezuzah is a vital marker of a Jewish home, and you should, in every way you can, endeavor to make your campus residence into a clearly Jewish home. You should proudly display your identity and commitments to your fellow students, and you should yourself encounter this representation of who you are whenever you enter your room. You should put up a mezuzah.

What if I have non-Jewish roommates or suitemates?

The Rema records a tradition that homes jointly owned by non-Jews do not require mezuzot. It is likely, however, that this reflects not a fundamental exemption but rather a pragmatic accommodation to the fact that non-Jews would not allow mezuzot in their spaces and were liable to tear them down even were we to put them up. But the Arukh Ha-Shulkhan, writing in 19th century Europe, already notes that “We see with our own eyes that they [the non-Jews] allow us to put up mezuzot, and they do not take issue”. 

So: If you have your own, or otherwise exclusively Jewish, room within a larger suite, you should certainly put a mezuzah on your door. If you have a non-Jewish roommate or suitemate, you should certainly have a conversation with them about the meaning and significance of putting up a mezuzah on your room or suite. In the event that they object, you can rely on the Rema’s allowance. Hopefully, though, and in all likelihood, they will gladly support your religious expression and you will proudly display a mezuzah on your shared door. 

Do I need to put up a mezuzah right away when I move in, or do I have 30 days?

The Shulchan Aruch writes that one who rents a residence outside of Israel is exempt for 30 days, at which point the obligation to put up a mezuzah kicks in. The reason is that a place in which one resides for less than 30 days “does not yet qualify as a residence [dirah].” But this reasoning would seem to be applicable in cases where there is no guarantee of how long you’ll stay – in such cases, it’s only once you’ve stuck around for 30 days that you qualify as a resident rather than a guest passing through. Given, however, that you’ve made arrangements with the university to live in your room well beyond 30 days, it stands to reason that you qualify as a resident from day one. This is the view of the Aruch Ha-Shulchan and many others. 

While there are many poskim who believe that even with a long-term lease one is not required to put up a mezuzah before 30 days have passed, it is legitimate in any case to put one up, with a bracha, immediately upon moving in. Some recommend a compromise position, putting the mezuzah up immediately without a bracha and then affixing on day 31 with a bracha. This is certainly meritorious, but my sense is that for most people it makes sense to simply put up the mezuzah with a bracha when they move in. It’s vital that you have a mezuzah on your dorm room as soon as possible for the reasons discussed above, and with everything else you’ll have on your plate beginning the school year, it is wise to make the process as simple and straightforward as you can.

What if I’m not allowed to hang things with nails?

While nailing a mezuzah into the doorpost is ideal, any reliably long-lasting adhesive is perfectly acceptable. What matters is that you fulfill the imperative li-kvoa mezuzah (“to affix a mezuzah”), meaning that it is set up to remain in place indefinitely. Double-sided tape is a great option. 

16 YD 286:22
17 YD 286:1
18 Arukh Ha-Shulkhan, YD 286:2.
19 Shakh to YD 286:22. Emphasis added.
20 See Aruch Ha-Shulchan 286:49.
21 See Igrot Moshe, YD 1:178.