Americans have been conditioned to respect newness, whatever it

The words of John Updike, “Americans have been conditioned to respect newness, whatever it costs them,” strike with the clarity of a bell tolling at dawn. In them lies not only observation but warning: that a people enthralled by newness may forget the weight of wisdom, the beauty of endurance, and the strength of continuity. To respect newness above all else is to kneel before the idol of the fleeting, to prize what glitters today and cast aside what nourished yesterday. The cost, though unseen at first, is profound—for in the endless hunger for the new, one risks losing the roots that hold life steady.

The ancients knew this temptation well. In Rome, the people once cherished old traditions, laws, and ancestral customs, believing them to be the bedrock of their greatness. Yet, as centuries passed, they grew restless. They craved spectacle, novelty, and constant change. Gladiators and games, exotic luxuries and foreign gods—all were embraced with feverish respect. In time, the reverence for newness hollowed their strength, and the empire that was once unshakable began to crumble, its citizens distracted by fresh entertainments even as the walls fell.

Updike’s words speak most of all to the modern spirit, where innovation is exalted beyond measure. Consider the rise of technology in our own age: the latest device, the newest version, the freshly minted platform—all are greeted with reverence, as though each new invention carries salvation. Yet how many, in chasing the newest, have surrendered privacy, patience, or peace of mind? The pursuit of the new has cost them the treasures of stillness, reflection, and rootedness. Respect for newness, when untempered, demands a price that is often unseen until too late.

But let us not condemn newness altogether, for it carries within it the spark of progress. Discovery, invention, and bold beginnings have lifted nations, cured diseases, and opened paths once thought impossible. What Updike warns against is not creation itself, but conditioning—the blind habit of bowing before anything simply because it is new. It is this unthinking reverence, this automatic surrender, that threatens to strip men and women of their discernment. For the wise do not honor what is new merely because it is new, but because it is good, just, and worthy.

We can see the danger of this conditioning in the tale of the stock market crashes of the twentieth century. Investors, lured by new opportunities, new financial schemes, new promises of wealth, rushed headlong into risks they scarcely understood. Respect for the “new” blinded them to caution, and the result was ruin that swept across nations. The treasure of prudence was abandoned for the idol of novelty, and the cost was immense suffering for millions. The abyss into which they stumbled was dug by their own reverence for the untested.

The teaching here is clear: newness should be weighed, not worshiped. Respect should be given to what proves itself worthy—not because it is new, nor because it dazzles the eye, but because it carries truth, integrity, and enduring value. To honor every new thing without measure is to live as a reed blown by the wind; to discern wisely is to stand like an oak, rooted yet open to the sky.

Therefore, let this be your practice: when faced with something new, do not rush blindly to embrace it. Ask: does this enrich my life, or does it only distract me? Does it build upon the wisdom of the past, or does it demand I cast away what is sacred? Respect innovation, but also honor tradition. Hold fast to what is proven, even as you open your hand to what may be good in the new. In this way, you will avoid the cost of blind conditioning and walk instead in the balance of discernment.

Thus, Updike’s words stand as a lantern: “Americans have been conditioned to respect newness, whatever it costs them.” Let them remind us that not all that is new is good, and not all that is old is worthless. The treasure of life lies not in endless novelty, but in the union of renewal with wisdom, in the weaving together of past and present into a fabric strong enough to endure the storms of time.