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While Australia settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of beach and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the national disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere ennui.

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

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so deeply diminished. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the animosity and dread of faith-based targeting on this continent or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep churning out at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, polarizing stances but no sense at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger faith. I mourn, because having faith in humanity – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so acutely. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to aid others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, faith-based and ethnic unity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the essence of faith.

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

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

Some politicians gravitated straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a cynical opportunity to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding fomenters of Australian racial division, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements 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 seeking the hope and, not least, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that cause death. Of course, each point are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously pursue new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent guns away from its potential perpetrators.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of clear azure skies above sea and sand, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in art or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Reflective solitude will seem more appropriate.

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

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

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