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As the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the background of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer mood seems, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to characterize the collective temperament after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere discontent.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of initial shock, sorrow and terror is segueing to fury and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

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

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

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because believing in people – in our capacity for kindness – has failed us so painfully. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to aid fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, faith-based and cultural solidarity was admirably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the meaning of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid gloom), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not appear quite the same again.’

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

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

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

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the hope and, not least, 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 grossly insufficient security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

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

In this metropolis of profound beauty, of clear blue heavens above ocean and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not seem entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in art or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more in order.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these days of fear, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and grief we require each other now more than ever.

The reassurance of community – the binding force of the unity in the very word – is what we probably need most.

But tragically, all of the portents are that unity in politics and the community will be hard to find this long, enervating summer.