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While the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and scorching heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood seems, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to characterize the national disposition after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of initial shock, grief and terror is shifting to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the right to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so deeply diminished. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the animosity and dread of faith-based persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in people – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has failed us so acutely. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and cultural solidarity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not appear exactly as they did again.’

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some politicians moved straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a calculating chance to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Witness the harmful rhetoric of division from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and scared and looking for the light and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and consistently alerted of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and keep guns away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of immense beauty, of clear azure skies above sea and shore, the water and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not seem quite the same again to the multitude who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We long right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in culture or nature.

This weekend many Australians are calling off Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and loss we require each other now more than ever.

The comfort of togetherness – the binding force of the unity in the very word – is what we likely need most.

But tragically, all of the indicators are that cohesion in public life and the community will be hard to find this long, enervating summer.