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As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood seems, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the national disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere discontent.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate surprise, sorrow and horror is segueing to fury and deep division.

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 much more immediate, energetic government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the right to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have endured the animosity and dread of faith-based targeting on this continent or elsewhere.

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

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in people – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has failed us so acutely. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – police officers and medical staff, those who charged into the gunfire to help fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, religious and cultural unity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of faith.

‘Our public places may not look exactly as they did again.’

And yet segments of the Australian polity reacted so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and recrimination.

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

Witness the dangerous message of division from veteran agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the probe was ongoing.

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the light and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that cause death. Of course, each point are true. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of immense beauty, of clear blue heavens above sea and shore, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted 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 aesthetics in art or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and grief we need each other now more than ever.

The reassurance of community – the human glue of the unity in the very word – is what we likely need most.

But tragically, all of the indicators are that cohesion in public life and the community will be elusive this long, enervating summer.