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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat set to the background of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic understatement to characterize the national disposition after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of immediate surprise, sorrow and terror is shifting to fury and bitter division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so deeply diminished. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have endured the hatred and dread of faith-based persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep churning out at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a time when I regret not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in people – in our potential for compassion – has let us down so acutely. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human decency. 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 recognised but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and ethnic unity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid gloom), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for hope.

Unity, light and love was the message of belief.

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

And yet elements of the political landscape reacted so disgustingly quickly with division, blame and accusation.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of division from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the probe was ongoing.

Politics has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the hope and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged 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 multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so openly and consistently alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were treated to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that cause death. Of course, each point are true. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of profound beauty, of clear azure skies above sea and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene violence.

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

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these times of anxiety, outrage, melancholy, confusion and grief we require each other now more than ever.

The reassurance of community – the binding force of the unity in the very word – is what we likely need most.

But sadly, all of the indicators are that cohesion in public life and society will be hard to find this long, enervating summer.