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While the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous 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 none before.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the national temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of mere discontent.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate surprise, grief and horror is segueing to fury and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, vigorous government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the right to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have endured the hatred and dread of religious and ethnic targeting on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the banal hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing stances but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in our capacity for kindness – has failed us so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to help others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, faith-based and cultural solidarity was admirably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of targeted violence.

In keeping with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid gloom), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and love was the message of belief.

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

And yet segments of the political landscape responded so nauseatingly quickly with division, blame and recrimination.

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

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

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

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully 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 consistently warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Of course, both things are valid. It’s possible to at the same time seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of immense splendor, of pristine blue heavens above ocean and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the multitude who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in art or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more appropriate.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these days of anxiety, anger, sadness, confusion and loss we need each other more than ever.

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

But sadly, all of the portents are that unity in public life and society will be elusive this extended, enervating summer.