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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood feels, sadly, like no other.

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

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of initial surprise, grief and terror is shifting to fury and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so sorely 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 land or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep churning out at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger faith. I mourn, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for kindness – has failed us so painfully. Something else, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and ethnic solidarity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of faith.

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

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

Some elected officials moved straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the harmful message of disunity from longstanding agitators of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the words of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and frightened and looking for the light and, not least, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as likely, did such a large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms 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 treated to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that cause death. Naturally, each point are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of pristine blue heavens above ocean and shore, the water and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We long right now for understanding and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in art or nature.

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

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these times of fear, anger, melancholy, confusion and grief we require each other now 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 cohesion in politics and the community will be elusive this extended, enervating summer.