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While the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and scorching heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to characterize the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere discontent.

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

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so deeply diminished. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the hatred and dread of faith-based targeting on this land or anywhere else.

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

This is a time when I regret not having a stronger faith. I lament, because believing in people – in mankind’s capacity for kindness – has failed us so painfully. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to aid 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 imperative of social, faith-based and cultural solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid darkness), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and compassion was the message of belief.

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

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

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

Witness the dangerous message of disunity from veteran agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack 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 bringing together a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the light and, not least, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as likely, did such a large open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so openly and consistently warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Of course, each point are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously pursue new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this metropolis of profound splendor, of pristine blue heavens above sea and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more in order.

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

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

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