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While the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and blistering heat set to the background of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the collective disposition after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tone of immediate surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to fury and bitter polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so deeply diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and dread of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep churning out at us the banal hot takes of those with inflammatory, divisive stances but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a time when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s capacity for kindness – has let us down so painfully. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to help others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and cultural solidarity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid gloom), there was so much fitting reference of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the message of faith.

‘Our public places may not appear exactly as they did again.’

And yet segments of the Australian polity reacted so nauseatingly swiftly with division, finger-pointing and recrimination.

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Witness the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from veteran agitators of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the words of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

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

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Naturally, both things are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of pristine azure skies above sea and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the multitude who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, outrage, sadness, confusion 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 sadly, all of the portents are that unity in politics and society will be elusive this long, enervating summer.