On Barriers

As I passed by Princes Bridge the other day, I saw brightly coloured traffic barriers lining the walkway: to separate cyclists from the cars, or cars from the pedestrians? Signs of the times, perhaps? They changed the sober Victorian architecture to something resembling a building site.

            Signs of change. I was reminded of the stone viewing tower in Beckett Park, visited soon after arriving here. It was built in 1937 to commemorate Victoria’s centenary, and my guide remembered Empire Day bonfires there. The park was then an outlier, but when I saw it the district was dense with subdivisions: the passage of time is also the passage of space.

            The park is refurbished; the bridge streams with traffic; everything is as it seems to be. The past, though, is different than it seems to be. Many things have changed for the better, some for the worse. Change seems incremental, but wears us out from day to day.

            The Lord of heaven and earth will change them like clothing, says the psalmist. They change now as we speak. The Lord looks upon the earth, to hear the pleas of the prisoners. Do we need more, or less, of barriers?