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

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the national disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere discontent.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of initial surprise, grief and horror is shifting to anger and bitter division.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced fears of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic official fight against antisemitism with the right to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the hatred and fear of faith-based 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, polarizing stances but no sense at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a time when I lament not having a greater spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for kindness – has failed us so painfully. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, religious and ethnic unity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not appear quite the same again.’

And yet segments of the political landscape reacted so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and recrimination.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from veteran agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Politics has a formidable task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and frightened and looking for the hope and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as probable, did such a significant open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not weapons that cause death. Of course, each point are true. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and keep firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

In this metropolis of immense splendor, of clear blue heavens above ocean and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene violence.

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

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

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, anger, sadness, bewilderment and loss we need each other more than ever.

The comfort of togetherness – 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 the community will be hard to find this extended, enervating summer.