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While the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the country’s summer mood seems, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the national temperament after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah festivities 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, grief and horror is segueing to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to peacefully protest against genocide.

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

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

This is a time when I lament not having a greater faith. I mourn, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for compassion – has let us down so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to aid others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic solidarity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of faith.

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

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

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a cynical chance to question Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from veteran fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements 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 seeking the hope and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were treated to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its potential actors.

In this city of profound splendor, of clear azure skies above ocean and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for family, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in art or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, outrage, melancholy, confusion and loss we need each other more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the portents are that unity in politics and society will be hard to find this long, enervating summer.