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As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and scorching heat set to the background of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of initial surprise, sorrow and terror is shifting to fury and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official fight against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so sorely diminished. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and fear of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep churning out at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for compassion – has failed us so acutely. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and cultural unity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid darkness), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and compassion was the message of belief.

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

And yet segments of the Australian polity reacted so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

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

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

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and frightened and looking for the hope and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as probable, did such a large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so openly and consistently warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired argument (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that kill. Naturally, each point are true. It’s possible to at the same time seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its possible actors.

In this city of immense splendor, of pristine blue heavens above ocean and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not seem quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We long right now for comprehension and significance, for family, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in culture or nature.

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

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

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

But tragically, all of the indicators are that cohesion in public life and the community will be elusive this long, enervating summer.