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As Australia winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the collective disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of mere discontent.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of initial shock, grief and horror is shifting to fury and bitter polarization.

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, vigorous official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the animosity and fear of faith-based persecution on this continent or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

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

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – police officers and paramedics, those who ran towards the danger to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic unity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a message of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of belief.

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

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

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a calculating opportunity to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Witness the harmful message of disunity from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the words of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and frightened 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 large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and consistently alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that cause death. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and keep firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of clear azure skies above ocean and sand, the water and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We long right now for understanding and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in culture or nature.

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

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

The reassurance of togetherness – the human glue 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 elusive this extended, enervating summer.