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As Australia settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat set to the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

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

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of initial shock, grief and horror is shifting to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the right to demonstrate against genocide.

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

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for compassion – has let us down so acutely. A different source, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and cultural unity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, light and love was the message 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 fragmentation, finger-pointing and recrimination.

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

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of division from longstanding fomenters of Australian racial division, exploiting the massacre before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the light and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Naturally, each point are true. It’s possible to simultaneously pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its potential perpetrators.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of clear blue heavens above ocean and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, outrage, melancholy, confusion and loss we require each other now more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the indicators are that cohesion in politics and society will be elusive this extended, enervating summer.