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As the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, sadly, like no other.

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

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of immediate shock, grief and horror is shifting to fury and bitter polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional fight against anti-Jewish hatred 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 mankind is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and fear of faith-based persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

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

This is a time when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for kindness – has let us down so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme examples of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of social, faith-based and ethnic solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the meaning of Hanukah (light amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, light and love was the message of faith.

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

And yet segments of the Australian polity reacted so disgustingly quickly with division, finger-pointing and recrimination.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a calculating chance to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous message of division from veteran fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the words of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

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

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Of course, each point are true. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of immense splendor, of clear blue heavens above ocean and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

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

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

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and loss we need 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 sadly, all of the indicators are that cohesion in public life and the community will be hard to find this long, draining summer.