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As the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood feels, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a dramatic understatement to describe the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple discontent.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tone of initial shock, sorrow and horror is segueing to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and fear of religious and ethnic 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 views but little understanding at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in people – in our capacity for compassion – has failed us so painfully. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of social, faith-based and cultural unity was laudably championed by religious figures. It was a message of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the meaning of Hanukah (illumination amid gloom), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for hope.

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of faith.

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

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

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

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of division from longstanding fomenters of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the words of political figures while the probe was still active.

Politics has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and scared and seeking the hope and, not least, answers 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 protection? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s people not guns that kill. Naturally, each point are true. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep guns away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of pristine azure skies above sea and shore, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the multitude who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or nature.

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

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

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

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