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While the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the national temperament after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere ennui.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of initial shock, grief and horror is segueing to fury and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, 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 experienced the hatred and fear of religious and ethnic targeting on this continent or anywhere else.

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

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

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid others, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, religious and cultural unity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, hope and love was the message of belief.

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

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

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a cynical opportunity to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Witness the dangerous message of division from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the words of leadership aspirants while the investigation was still active.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and scared and looking for the hope and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were treated to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that cause death. Of course, each point are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent guns away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of clear azure skies above sea and shore, the water and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

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

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will feel more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these days of fear, outrage, melancholy, confusion and grief we require each other more than ever.

The reassurance 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 unity in politics and the community will be hard to find this long, enervating summer.