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While the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere feels, unfortunately, like none before.

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

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

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so deeply depleted. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the animosity and fear of faith-based persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with blistering, divisive views but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a time when I regret not having a greater spiritual belief. I mourn, because having faith in people – in our potential for kindness – has let us down so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme examples of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the danger to aid others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and ethnic unity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the symbolism of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much fitting 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 segments of the Australian polity responded so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Witness the dangerous rhetoric of division from veteran fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Politics has a daunting task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and scared and seeking the light and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as probable, did such a large open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so publicly and consistently alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that cause death. Of course, both things are true. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and keep firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of immense beauty, of pristine blue heavens above ocean and shore, the water and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

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

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will feel more appropriate.

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

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

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