how to sing a nigun

Rabbi Lipszyc's Story of the Week Sponsored in honor of Levi and Perel Krinskys birthdays. As I mentioned earlier, from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. I spent my time at the tefillin stand. In the evening, at around 6:00 p.m. I had a shiur in Hebrew House. During the two hours in between, I would drive up and down the streets to see if I could meet more Jewish students. One time, while driving around, I noticed a small side street, which I had never seen before.  It was just one block long. I turned into it, with my window rolled down, as it was early spring, and I heard someone yell out, "Hey Rabbi, how about singing a nigun, (a Chassidic tune, usually without words,) for us? I stopped short, and pulled over to the side to park. I looked up at six Jewish students, three boys and three girls, sitting on the steps to a small house. I retorted, "You think a nigun is just sung? First we have to create an environment and then the nigun can flow." When I saw that I had their attention, I asked if any of them had a bottle of whiskey or liquor so that we can sit down to "farbreng." (A chassidic farbrengen as it is commonly known, defies description. It is a gathering of chassidim, where we encourage and exhort each other to spiritually develop ourselves to heights previously thought unattainable. The vehicle through which this is achieved, is by wishing each other l'chaim, (to life,) over some vodka or whiskey, singing pensive melodies, and speaking to each other heart to heart. However, a farbrengen cannot really be described, rather it must be experienced. To create the correct atmosphere for a nigun to be effective, a farbrengen setting is needed.) A tall blonde, freckle faced and handsome fellow, by the name of Neil Cooper, answered that he had a bottle of tequilla. I had never heard of it before, so I asked if it is alcoholic. When he answered in the affirmitive, I said fine let’s say l’chaim. (That was when I learned that not all alcoholic beverages are made for farbrengens!) Neil was the initiator of the request for a nigun, and it was only his initial request to sing a nigun that made it obvious to me that he was Jewish. We all went into his kitchen, where we sat down around a table, with a bottle of tequilla and some fresh fruit and started to farbreng. I explained the concept of a farbrengen and the three “ingredients” that make up a farbrengen: l’chaims, words that exhort to better oneself, and nigunim to arouse oneself to action. We started with songs that were of the sort which are taught in Hebrew school, so that everyone could participate and get into the right mood. After about an hour of talking, singing and wishing each other l'chaim, the atmosphere felt right, so I asked if they would like to learn an old chassidic nigun? When they responded that they would, I began to sing a nigun known as The Dokshitzer Nigun. I don’t believe that nigun ever entered my head since I left yeshiva many years earlier. They loved it and excitedly asked me to sing another nigun. I told them, “Nope, I am not an entertainer. If they want to hear other nigunim, they would need to first learn this nigun well.” So I taught them, stanza by stanza, the nigun until they knew it and were singing it with me. When they knew it fairly well, they asked me to teach them another old chassidic nigun.  I responded that if they want to learn another nigun, I would return the following week, and if they would know this nigun well, and could sing it correctly, without any help from me, then at that time I would teach them another nigun. They agreed, and we did just that. We did the same for about three weeks until mid-term exams came around. We suspended our get-togethers, but unfortunately never got it going again. Quite a number of years passed. There was already a full time Chabad House at the campus of the University of Michigan under the very capable directorship of Rabbi Aharon Goldstein. I had in the meantime moved on to break new ground for other Chabad Houses and Chabad Centers, in other areas of Michigan. It was decided, to open a Chabad shul in the Detroit suburb of West Bloomfield Hills. My home was in Oak Park, another suburb of Detroit, which was 15 miles away. In order to start the minyan, we rented a room in a public school in the area, and held services there. The closest building Chabad had to that neighborhood, was the Cheder (our elementary school) building, which was 3-1/2 miles away. Every Friday, my wife, children and I, would take blankets, sheets, and food for Shabbos, and move into the Cheder building, sleeping on mattresses on the floor. Shabbos morning I would walk the 7 miles, to services and back. On certain special occasions, I wanted to be in Oak Park for either a Friday night or a Shabbos afternoon, in which case I would leave my family in Oak Park for Shabbos. Friday night I would stay with my family, leaving at 5:00 a.m. to walk the 15 miles to the shul. I would prearrange that after shul I would go to the home of one of the congregants. In such a situation, I would drop off food for myself before Shabbos, and would spend the rest of Shabbos at the congregant's house. In the case that I wanted to be in Oak Park for Shabbos afternoon, I would go to a congregant's home, bringing my own food for Friday night, and after shul on Shabbos afternoon, I would walk back to Oak Park. One Friday night, when I was staying at the home of Mr. & Mrs. Ted Scholnick, they requested that instead of my eating alone, I should bring my food to their table and except for the fact that we were eating different food, we would be spending the Shabbos meal together. During the meal Mr. Scholnick suddenly turned to me and asked me to sing a chassidic nigun. I thought a moment and, although I hadn’t sung that nigun since, began to sing the same Dokshitzer Nigun. Not being the "regular run of the mill" nigun sung in Hebrew schools and non-religious camps, I was somewhat amazed when his 15 year old daughter, Abby, began singing along. It was obvious that she knew the nigun. After we finished singing it, she asked me how I knew this song? I laughed and said "I was about to ask you the same question." I explained that it was an old chassidic nigun and that I was curious to know where she had learned it? She told me that one summer she attended Camp Ramah, (a conservative run camp in Pennsylvania, with over 1,000 campers.) One Shabbos afternoon, one of the counsellors got up and told the campers he wanted to teach them a chassidic nigun. Upon further questioning, it turned out that the counsellor was none other than Neil Cooper to whom I had taught this nigun so many years earlier, in Ann Arbor. I just want to point out that I was not in the habit of regularly singing this particular song, but since this story played itself out, I do indeed sing it often. http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/media_cdo/aid/140748/jewish/Dokshitzer-Nigun.htm To receive Rabbi Lipszyc's Story of the week via Whatsapp add the number 513-456-7595 to your phone contacts, and then send a text to with the message "Join".  Support Rabbi Lipszyc's work by Donating at https://chabadcrimeaorg.clhosting.org/templates/articlecco_cdo/aid/2511910/jewish/Crisis-Relief/lang/en or sending checks to: Chabad of Crimea World Friends, 1601 Union St, Brooklyn, NY 11213