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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the collective disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of initial surprise, sorrow and horror is shifting to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the animosity and fear of faith-based persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with blistering, divisive stances but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

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

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such profound instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to help others, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of community, religious and cultural unity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid gloom), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and love was the message of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not look exactly as they did again.’

And yet segments of the political landscape reacted so nauseatingly quickly with division, blame and accusation.

Some politicians moved straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a cynical opportunity to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding fomenters of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

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

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, 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 family home when the security agency has so publicly and consistently alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that cause death. Naturally, both things are true. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its possible actors.

In this city of immense splendor, of pristine azure skies above sea and shore, the water and the beaches – our communal areas – may not seem quite the same again to the multitude who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

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

This weekend many Australians are calling off Christmas party plans. Reflective solitude will feel more appropriate.

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of anxiety, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and grief we need each other now more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the portents are that cohesion in politics and the community will be elusive this long, draining summer.