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As Australia winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the background of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like none before.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the national temperament after the antisemitic violent assault on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tone of initial surprise, sorrow and terror is shifting to anger and deep polarization.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced fears of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so deeply depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and dread of faith-based persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with blistering, divisive stances but no sense at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger faith. I lament, because believing in humanity – 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 heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, faith-based and ethnic solidarity was admirably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the meaning of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much fitting reference of the need for hope.

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the essence of belief.

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

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

Some elected officials moved straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from veteran fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the words of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and frightened and seeking the light and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level 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 multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and consistently warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not weapons that cause death. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its potential actors.

In this city of immense beauty, of pristine azure skies above ocean and shore, the water and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in art or nature.

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

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

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

But sadly, all of the indicators are that unity in public life and society will be hard to find this long, enervating summer.