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As Australia winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat set to the background of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood feels, sadly, like none before.

It would be a significant oversimplification to characterize the national temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of immediate surprise, sorrow and horror is segueing to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic official fight against antisemitism with the right to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so sorely depleted. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and dread of religious and ethnic targeting on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the banal hot takes of those with blistering, divisive stances but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because believing in people – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has failed us so painfully. A different source, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic solidarity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid gloom), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and love was the essence of belief.

‘Our public places may not look quite the same again.’

And yet segments of the political landscape responded so disgustingly quickly with division, finger-pointing and recrimination.

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of division from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the words of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and frightened and looking for the light and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully insufficient security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this metropolis of profound splendor, of clear azure skies above sea and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in culture or the natural world.

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

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

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

But tragically, all of the indicators are that unity in public life and the community will be elusive this long, draining summer.