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As Australia winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of coast and scorching heat set to the background of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood seems, sadly, like none before.

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

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

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the hatred and fear of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, divisive views but little understanding at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for kindness – has failed us so acutely. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of social, faith-based and ethnic unity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the essence of belief.

‘Our public places may not look quite the same again.’

And yet segments of the Australian polity reacted so nauseatingly quickly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from veteran fomenters of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the words of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

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

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully insufficient security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the family home when the security agency has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were treated to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously pursue new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and prevent guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound beauty, of clear blue heavens above ocean and shore, the water and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the multitude who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or nature.

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

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these days of fear, anger, melancholy, confusion and grief we need each other more than ever.

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

But sadly, all of the indicators are that unity in politics and the community will be elusive this long, draining summer.