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As the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like none before.

It would be a dramatic understatement to characterize the national temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere discontent.

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

Those who had previously missed the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic official crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against genocide.

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

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater spiritual belief. I mourn, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has let us down so acutely. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of social, faith-based and ethnic solidarity was admirably championed by religious figures. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a time of targeted violence.

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

Unity, hope and compassion was the message of faith.

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

And yet elements of the Australian polity responded so disgustingly quickly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

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

Observe the dangerous message of division from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was still active.

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

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as probable, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that cause death. Of course, each point are true. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and keep guns away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of pristine blue heavens above ocean and shore, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or nature.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, anger, melancholy, confusion and grief we require each other more than ever.

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

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