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While the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and scorching heat set to the soundtrack of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the collective temperament after the antisemitic violent assault on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of initial shock, sorrow and terror is shifting to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, 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 mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so deeply diminished. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the animosity and fear of religious and ethnic targeting on this continent or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

This is a time when I regret not having a greater spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in people – in our potential for kindness – has failed us so acutely. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to aid others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and cultural solidarity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Unity, hope and love was the essence of faith.

‘Our public places may not look exactly as they did again.’

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

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

Observe the dangerous message of division from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Politics has a daunting task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the hope and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as probable, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration 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 publicly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were subjected to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Of course, both things are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of profound splendor, of pristine blue heavens above sea and shore, the water and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We long right now for comprehension and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or nature.

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

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

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

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