For reasons that are not known to me, thirteen has always been considered an unlucky number among non- Jews. So much so that in elevators in some hotels and business buildings, there is no number 13. The elevator jumps from twelve to fourteen.
Jews celebrate the number thirteen. When a boy becomes a bar mitzvah at age thirteen it’s a time of rejoicing. He is then considered a “man.” I remember the bar mitzvahs of my sons. They read their whole parshas and davened. We were so proud. In later years we celebrated grandsons’ bar mitzvahs, and I am even so blessed to celebrate the bar mitzvahs of great grandsons!
I have relatives and friends whose birthdays come out on the 13th of the month.
We used to joke about how lucky we are that they were born. For me as a youngster I couldn’t wait to turn thirteen. I would finally be a TEENAGER. The world was going to open up for me. Anytime my mother hesitated to allow me to stay out a little late for a B’nai Akiva function, I would say, “But Mom, I’m thirteen, I’m a teenager now.”
I can still hear myself saying that. It didn’t work, I’m sad to say. I had to wait until I was fifteen or sixteen. Of course in hindsight, my mother was right, as she always was.
Thirteen was the age I started high school. Those were wonderful years, and I still have good friends from those years.
So, yes, thirteen is a lucky number.