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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and scorching heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood feels, sadly, like none before.

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the national temperament after the antisemitic violent assault on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple discontent.

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of immediate surprise, sorrow and horror is shifting to anger and bitter division.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so deeply diminished. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the animosity and dread of faith-based targeting on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal hot takes of those with blistering, divisive views but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in people – in mankind’s 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 seen such profound examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to aid others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and ethnic solidarity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a time of targeted violence.

In keeping with the meaning of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for hope.

Unity, light and love was the essence of belief.

‘Our public places may not look quite the same again.’

And yet segments of the Australian polity responded so disgustingly swiftly with division, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some elected officials moved straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a calculating opportunity to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous message of division from veteran fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the words of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

Government has a formidable job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the hope and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a large open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and consistently warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that cause death. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and prevent guns away from its potential perpetrators.

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

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in art or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are calling off Christmas party plans. Reflective solitude will seem more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these days of anxiety, anger, sadness, confusion and loss 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 elusive this long, draining summer.