Скачать или смотреть Shabbat Sermon: Strap on Your Skis with Rav Hazzan Aliza Berger

February 14, 2026

Even before she stepped into her ski boots to compete in Cortina, Lindsey Vonn’s story was profound. To be a top contender at the age of 41, after six years of retirement, after a partial knee replacement and countless serious injuries, is remarkable in and of itself. But Vonn wasn’t just competing 24 years after her first Olympic games, and she wasn’t just competing on a body which had recovered from countless serious injuries. Just days before the Olympics, Vonn ruptured her ACL racing in Switzerland. Where most athletes would have taken a year to recover, Vonn was planning to ski nearly 100 mph down a notoriously difficult cliff face in the hopes of winning another Olympic gold.

The New York Times story about her leading up to the race was titled, “Linsey Vonn is Skiing on One Good Knee, but It’s a Helluva Knee.” There was so much excitement for her race. As her teammate, Mikaeila Shiffrin put it, “her tenacity and grit, and what she’s showing up with this Olympics and staying true to her own values, that’s just straight up beautiful.”

When Lindsey crashed, all that positive energy shifted. There were nasty comments all over the internet and social media. People said she had no business skiing on a ruptured ACL. That of course she wiped out. How irresponsible. The blow back was so intense that her teammates and coach, even the president of the International Ski and Snowboard Federation, all began making public statements to defend her.

It was a fascinating turn-around. Before Vonn crashed into the gate, there was no critique of her choice, simply admiration. Everyone was talking about how amazing it would be if she could win. But when she caught the gate and crashed, suddenly there was so much blame, so much anger and resentment directed towards her. As if she were wrong to dream. As if the only thing that mattered was winning. As if losing with an injury was somehow embarrassing.

We have to talk about that turn-around, about that shift. Because that move, to applaud effort as long as it’s successful, to criticize risk-taking when it doesn’t turn out, that instinct is so tempting and so dangerous. How often do we hold back because we are too afraid of failing? How often do we foreclose the possibility of joy because we are too afraid to take a risk?