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While the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday across languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the national disposition after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside 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 immediate shock, sorrow and horror is segueing to anger and deep division.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so deeply diminished. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and dread of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or elsewhere.

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

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in people – in our capacity for kindness – has failed us so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

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

When the police tape still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of community, religious and cultural solidarity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of faith.

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

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

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

Witness the harmful message of division from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and frightened and looking for the light and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

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

In this city of profound splendor, of clear blue heavens above sea and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in art or nature.

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, sadness, bewilderment and loss we require each other more than ever.

The comfort of community – 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 public life and the community will be elusive this long, draining summer.