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While the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a dramatic understatement to characterize the collective disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of mere discontent.

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

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so sorely diminished. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and fear of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, divisive stances but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because having faith in people – in mankind’s capacity for compassion – has let us down so painfully. Something else, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen 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 aid fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic unity was admirably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of compassion and acceptance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the meaning of Hanukah (light amid gloom), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, light and love was the essence of belief.

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

And yet elements of the political landscape reacted so nauseatingly swiftly with division, finger-pointing and accusation.

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

Witness the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the probe was still active.

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the hope and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of immense splendor, of clear blue heavens above sea and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We long 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. Reflective solitude will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and grief we need each other 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 portents are that unity in public life and the community will be elusive this extended, draining summer.