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As the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like none before.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere discontent.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of immediate shock, grief and terror is segueing to fury and bitter division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic official crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom 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 diminished. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have endured the animosity and dread of faith-based persecution on this continent or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal hot takes of those with blistering, polarizing views but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater faith. I lament, because believing in people – in our potential for compassion – has let us down so painfully. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the danger to help others, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and cultural solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of love and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of targeted violence.

In keeping with the symbolism of Hanukah (light amid gloom), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for hope.

Unity, light and love was the essence of faith.

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

And yet elements of the Australian polity reacted so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

Some politicians moved straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical opportunity to question Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful rhetoric of disunity from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a formidable job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the hope and, not least, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully insufficient security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were subjected to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its potential actors.

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

We long right now for understanding and significance, for family, 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 counterintuitive. For in these times of fear, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and grief we require each other 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 politics and the community will be hard to find this extended, draining summer.