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As Australia settles into for a customary Christmas holiday across languorous days of beach and scorching heat set to the soundtrack of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like no other.

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

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of immediate surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to anger and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so deeply diminished. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have endured the hatred and dread of religious and ethnic targeting on this continent or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with blistering, polarizing views but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in people – in our capacity for compassion – has let us down so painfully. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers 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 fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic solidarity was laudably championed by religious figures. It was a message of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid gloom), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for hope.

Togetherness, light and love was the message of faith.

‘Our public places may not look quite the same again.’

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

Some elected officials moved straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a cynical opportunity to question Australia’s migration rules.

Witness the harmful rhetoric of division from longstanding agitators of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and frightened and looking for the hope and, not least, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Naturally, both things are true. It’s possible to simultaneously pursue new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and prevent guns away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of immense beauty, of clear blue heavens above ocean and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not seem entirely familiar 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 family, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in art or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these times of anxiety, outrage, melancholy, bewilderment and grief we require each other now more than ever.

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

But sadly, all of the portents are that unity in public life and society will be elusive this long, draining summer.