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While Australia settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the national disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of immediate surprise, grief and horror is shifting to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right 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 faith-based targeting on this land or elsewhere.

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

This is a period when I regret not having a greater faith. I lament, because believing in humanity – in our potential for compassion – has let us down so painfully. Something else, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the danger to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and cultural solidarity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, hope and love was the message of belief.

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

And yet elements of the Australian polity reacted so nauseatingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

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

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

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

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so openly and consistently alerted of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that cause death. Naturally, both things are true. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of profound beauty, of pristine blue heavens above sea and sand, the water and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the multitude who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will feel more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these days of anxiety, anger, melancholy, confusion and loss we require each other now more than ever.

The comfort of togetherness – the human glue of the unity in the very word – is what we probably need most.

But tragically, all of the portents are that unity in politics and the community will be hard to find this extended, enervating summer.