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As the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of beach and scorching heat set to the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like none before.

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

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate shock, grief and horror is shifting to anger and deep polarization.

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

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

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

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger faith. I lament, because believing in people – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has let us down so acutely. A different source, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to help others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and ethnic solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a time of targeted violence.

Consistent with the meaning of the Festival of Lights (light amid darkness), there was so much fitting reference of the need for lightness.

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of faith.

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

And yet segments of the political landscape responded so disgustingly quickly with division, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some elected officials moved straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a cynical opportunity to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Witness the dangerous message of division from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Politics has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the hope and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that cause death. Of course, each point are true. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of pristine azure skies above ocean and sand, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve noted that iconic 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 beauty in art or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of anxiety, outrage, sadness, 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 tragically, all of the portents are that cohesion in public life and the community will be elusive this long, draining summer.