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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat set to the background of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the national disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of immediate surprise, grief and horror is segueing to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic official fight 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 humanity is so sorely diminished. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and dread of faith-based targeting on this continent or anywhere else.

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

This is a period when I regret not having a greater faith. I lament, because believing in humanity – in our capacity for kindness – has failed us so painfully. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and cultural solidarity was admirably championed by religious figures. It was a message of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not look quite the same again.’

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

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating chance to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the harmful message of division from veteran fomenters of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

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, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of pristine blue heavens above sea and shore, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for understanding and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these times of fear, outrage, sadness, confusion and grief we require each other now more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the portents are that unity in public life and the community will be elusive this long, enervating summer.