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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood feels, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a dramatic understatement to describe the collective temperament after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians 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, sorrow and horror is segueing to anger and bitter polarization.

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

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

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the banal hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing stances but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a time when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in mankind’s capacity for kindness – has let us down so acutely. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, faith-based and ethnic solidarity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Unity, light and compassion was the essence of faith.

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

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

Some elected officials moved straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a calculating chance to question Australia’s migration rules.

Witness the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from veteran fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Politics has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and frightened and looking for the light and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large 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 domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

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

In this city of immense beauty, of clear azure skies above sea and shore, the water and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the multitude who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in art or the natural world.

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

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

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

But tragically, all of the portents are that cohesion in politics and the community will be hard to find this long, draining summer.