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As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood feels, sadly, like no other.

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

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of immediate shock, sorrow and terror is segueing to fury and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so sorely diminished. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and fear of faith-based persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

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

This is a time when I regret not having a greater faith. I mourn, because having faith in humanity – in mankind’s capacity for kindness – has failed us so acutely. Something else, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to help others, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and ethnic solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the symbolism of Hanukah (illumination amid gloom), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for hope.

Togetherness, light and love was the message of faith.

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

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so nauseatingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and recrimination.

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the harmful message of disunity from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the probe was ongoing.

Politics has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and scared and seeking the hope and, importantly, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a significant open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly alerted of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that cause death. Of course, both things are valid. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of clear azure skies above sea and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, outrage, sadness, confusion and grief we require each other now more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the indicators are that unity in public life and the community will be elusive this extended, draining summer.