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As the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a dramatic understatement to describe the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of initial surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. 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 mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have endured the hatred and dread of religious and ethnic targeting on this continent or anywhere else.

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

This is a period when I regret not having a greater faith. I mourn, because believing in humanity – in our potential for kindness – has let us down so painfully. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to help fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, faith-based and ethnic solidarity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the meaning of Hanukah (illumination amid gloom), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of faith.

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

And yet elements of the Australian polity responded so nauseatingly swiftly with division, blame and recrimination.

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

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of division from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the words of political figures while the investigation was still active.

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

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully insufficient security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that cause death. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of clear azure skies above sea and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not seem entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and meaning, 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 counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, outrage, sadness, bewilderment 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 public life and the community will be hard to find this long, enervating summer.