Today is Friday, December 13th, 2024. Should I Be Worried?

Short answer, not unless you are hopelessly superstitious. You may conclude I have WAY TOO MUCH time on my hands these days, and you would not be wrong in that conclusion. I did a little research about Friday the 13th this morning. Here’s a sampling of what I learned:

One source mentioned for the unlucky reputation of the number 13 is a Norse myth about twelve gods having a dinner party in Valhalla. The trickster god Loki, who was not invited, arrived as the thirteenth guest, and arranged for Höðr, the god of darkness, to shoot Balder, the god of joy and gladness, with a mistletoe-tipped arrow. Balder died, triggering much suffering in the world, which caused the number 13 to be considered unlucky.

Christian associations:

The superstition seems to relate to various things, like the story of Jesus’s Last Supper and crucifixion in which there were thirteen individuals present in the Upper Room on the thirteenth of Nisan Maundy Thursday, the night before his death on Good Friday. Judas was the 13th invited guest.

In conjunction with Friday:

While there is evidence of both Friday and the number 13 being considered unlucky, there is no record of the two items being referred to as especially unlucky in conjunction before the 19th century. In short, the idea is relatively a modern invention.

The Knights Templar:

Some cite the arrest of the Knights Templar on Friday, October 13, 1307, by officers of King Philip IV of France as the origin of the Friday the 13th superstition, but it is agreed the origins remain murky.

19th century:

In France, Friday 13th might have been associated with misfortune as early as the first half of the 19th century. A character in the 1834 play Les Finesses des Gribouilles states, “I was born on a Friday, December 13th, 1813 from which come all of my misfortunes.”

An early documented reference in English occurs in H. S. Edwards’ biography of Gioachino Rossini, who died on Friday 13th of November 1868:

“Rossini was surrounded to the last by admiring friends; and if it be true that, like so many Italians, he regarded Fridays as an unlucky day and thirteen as an unlucky number, it is remarkable that on Friday 13th of November he passed away.”

Dissemination:

It is possible that the publication in 1907 of T. W. Lawson’s popular novel “Friday, the Thirteenth,” contributed to popularizing the superstition. In the novel, an unscrupulous broker takes advantage of the superstition to create a Wall Street panic on a Friday the 13th. 

* * *

So, there you have it in a nutshell. Like most superstitions, this one is likely powerless. Where I live and from where I am writing this morning, the skies overhead are producing about four inches of light powder snow. It’s been snowing steadily for about ten hours now, and I am told by forecasters this is simply the precursor for what is supposed to be a larger storm coming on Sunday. Just yesterday I read that we have had zero inches of snow so far in December, and so who among snow lovers in Utah would say Friday the 13th is unlucky? Not many, I would wager.

If it were anyone else, this day would pass for just another Friday the 13th, but today is also Taylor Swift’s birthday. I probably live in the Dark Ages in my little corner of 2024, I suppose, but I have NEVER even heard ONE of her songs. 

It’s also Dick Van Dyke’s 99th birthday today, and he’s a famous actor and entertainer with whom I totally relate. Put him together with Julie Andrews, and there’s a duo worth celebrating on any day of the year! 

It is actuarily sound that there are fewer accidents recorded on this day than any other day of the year, simply because people avoid going out. They stay at home to avoid the bad luck associated with Friday the 13th. Take it for what it’s worth.

I chose today to vacuum and do some laundry. Believe it or not, there were still flies to vacuum up in my home this morning. It was a banner year for houseflies where I live, but I am guessing that now that winter is officially here with plunging temperatures and snow on the ground outside there will be fewer of them. Hope springs eternal within me.

By the way, there is at least one Friday the 13th in every calendar year, and sometimes as many as three. Whenever Sunday starts a new month, that month will have a Friday the 13th. 

Hopefully, my little missive of today will give you a full bucket of confidence that you may embrace your normal activities without fear of any bad luck crossing your path. Just to be on the safe side, however, don’t walk under any ladders, and avoid any black cats that may be visible to you. 

But that’s all a story for another day. 

Shepherds at the Gate of Christmas

Christmas always reminds me of the years I served as a bishop. I was an eyewitness then to the lovingkindness of my ward members for one another. As a steward of the sacred fast offering funds donated to the Church, a bishop is often the one who stands in the breach when all other help flees from those most in need.

To announce His birth as the Shepherd of Israel, the angel appeared first to shepherds in the field keeping watch over their flock by night. Today’s modern under-shepherds are the bishops of Israel who succor and nurture the sheep in the wide expanse of this world.

Fast offerings are donated monthly on the first Sunday of each month. We observe the fast for a twenty-four hour period beginning on Saturday. The cost of the two meals skipped is suggested as an offering to assist the poor and the needy who live among us. The bishops of the Church are encouraged to “seek out” the poor and needy, and not to wait until they land on his doorstep. It is a sobering and humbling assignment, as any bishop will attest.

It seems the Christmas season brings more stories as the years unfold. Of course, the best stories never are told. They remain the sacred and secret domain of bishops and their flocks. But this past week (I wrote this account in 2011) another story is added to my personal lexicon. I share it here, preserving the anonymity of those involved.

I had a phone call from a former co-worker with whom I hadn’t spoken in months. He said, “I was speaking with someone the other day who suggested I call you. I need some of your wisdom. I’ve gotten myself into a situation, and I need your help. Could we meet for breakfast tomorrow?”

At breakfast my friend poured out a story I had not anticipated. He and his wife had encountered some health issues since we had last spoken. They had gotten behind on their bills, and he had taken out some payday loans to meet their obligations. He had not told his wife, not wanting to alarm her. The exorbitant interest payments were now consuming all their income, and the rent was due the following day. They had just moved from one distant city to another nearer his work, and had done some painting to enable themselves to get into a new rental home. Now the first month’s rent was due and they had no way to pay it.

We discussed possible sources of help. He had consulted a bankruptcy attorney last year, but they hadn’t taken any steps in that direction. His sister, a CPA, was the executor of his mother’s estate, but he feared she would treat him harshly when she heard the predicament he was in. There seemed to be no options. He had requested a consolidation loan from his bank, but they had declined his request because his credit had been impaired.

I suggested three alternatives to explore. 1) Re-connect with the bankruptcy attorney to see if she could help stop the freight train of the escalating interest payments due to the payday lenders; 2) call his sister to see if there might be any way she could think of to help him, and 3) call your new bishop. I also recommended that he not hide their situation any longer from his wife.

My friend reminded me he was not a member of the Church, but my response was, “Everyone in this world has a bishop, most of them just haven’t met each other yet. Your wife was a member of the Church at one time, wasn’t she?” He confirmed she had been. But he hastened to add he had been a lay minister in another church before he had moved to Utah and met his wife. He had to give up his ministry to accept a job here, and he wouldn’t even know how or who he should contact.

I took a moment to explain how to find his bishop through the Church’s website. (It's much easier today than when I was writing this account in 2011). He wrote down my instructions carefully. I had a chance to explain that like him, bishops in the Church are lay ministers, called for a period of time by their leaders from among their congregations, then released to go back into the ranks from which they had been called. I explained a little about fast offerings, and the purposes for which bishops may use those member donations as they feel inspired to do so. I told him without even knowing who he was, I was certain his bishop would stand ready and able with resources to assist him.

As we parted, I was gripped with a moment of fear. What had I just done? I didn’t even know who his bishop was! How could I make such an audacious promise and assume it would play out smoothly the way I hoped it would?

Then the Spirit whispered to me, chiding me a little and speaking peace to my heart, “You were a bishop once, David. You know how I work, don’t you? Have a little faith.”

Later in the day, I finally had a chance to check my voicemail. There was a message from my friend. He said he had done as I had suggested, found his new ward and his bishop. He had called the bishop, who heard his story with an empathetic ear, and suggested that they meet that morning at his office at the ward building. In part, he said to me in the message, “I went over my scenario with him, and he’s going to help me with the rent. I’m so glad I came to you. Thank you for listening to me and for your wisdom and your advice.”

Honestly, the Lord makes us all smarter than we are if we listen to His spirit directing us and we act on those impressions. He said at the end of his message, “I should know God is in charge. He’s proven it again to me this morning. Thank you.” Our part is to humble ourselves. He manifests His love for each of His children without judgment or reservation.

I thought of pennies, nickels and dollars that comprise the monthly fast offerings of the faithful saints, and I felt to give thanks once again for those who give in the same spirit our Father in Heaven gives. It is all about His love for His children.

I echo with heartfelt gratitude the words of President Gordon B. Hinckley, who offered these insights about bishops in a General Conference address:

“I stand in humble gratitude and respect and admiration for the bishops of this Church. In the most dire of circumstances, I watched them in La Lima, Honduras. I spoke with them, shook their hands, loved them. How thankful I am for these men who, without regard for their own comfort, give of their time, of their wisdom, of their inspiration in presiding over our wards throughout the world. They receive no compensation other than the love of their people. There is no rest for them on the Sabbath, nor very much at other times. They are the ones closest to the people, best acquainted with their needs and circumstances.”

The requirements of their office are today as they were in the days of Paul, who wrote to Timothy:

A bishop then must be blameless, the husband of one wife, vigilant, sober, of good behaviour, given to hospitality, apt to teach;

Not given to wine, no striker [that is, not a bully or a violent person], … not a brawler, not covetous (1 Timothy 3:2–3).

In his letter to Titus, Paul adds that “a bishop must be blameless, as the steward of God; … Holding fast the faithful word as he hath been taught, that he may be able by sound doctrine both to exhort and to convince the gainsayers” (Titus 1:7, 9).

I suspect there will be a “sequel” to this formative introduction between my friend and his new bishop. How marvelous that a bishop stands ready to help the constituency of his flock, even those who have not as yet been “branded” as one of his own…

For, in fact, we are all His.

Sometimes we are the recipients, other times we are the givers, but He always ministers to our needs through His under-shepherds, the bishops of Israel.

Today, somewhere in Sunnyvale, California, Phil Sharp was ordained as a new bishop, the first to serve in our family’s next generation. I know he will be blessed as the mantle rests upon his shoulders and he takes up his new role as a shepherd in Israel to the flock where he is assigned. (Just this weekend in 2024, Phil was sustained as a counselor in their stake presidency in Bloomfield, Colorado, where he continues to bless many lives through his consecrated service).

The gates of Christmas are flung open wide for all who will come to enter therein…