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As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the background of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the national temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah celebrations 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 initial shock, grief and terror is segueing to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional 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 belief in mankind is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have endured the animosity and dread of faith-based persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal hot takes of those with blistering, polarizing views but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

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

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and cultural unity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the message of faith.

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

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so disgustingly quickly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and accusation.

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

Witness the harmful message of division from veteran agitators of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the words of leadership aspirants 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 seeking the hope and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently warned of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were subjected to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that kill. Of course, both things are true. It’s possible to at the same time seek new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and keep guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this metropolis of profound splendor, of pristine azure skies above sea and shore, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension 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 seem more appropriate.

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

The comfort of togetherness – 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 politics and the community will be hard to find this extended, enervating summer.