The Initial Impact and Terror of the Bondi Attack Is Transitioning to Anger and Division. We Must Seek Out the Hope.

While Australia winds down for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the national disposition after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere discontent.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tone of initial surprise, grief and horror is shifting to anger and deep division.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling 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 time for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have endured the animosity and dread of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a time when I lament not having a greater faith. I mourn, because having faith in people – in our potential for compassion – has failed us so acutely. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and cultural solidarity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the meaning of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid darkness), there was so much fitting reference of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of belief.

And yet segments of the political landscape responded so nauseatingly swiftly with division, blame and accusation.

Some politicians moved straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a calculating opportunity to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Witness the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from veteran agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the words of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Politics has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the light and, importantly, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the family home when the security agency has so openly and repeatedly warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Of course, each point are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound beauty, of pristine blue heavens above sea and shore, the ocean and the coastline – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or nature.

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will seem more appropriate.

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

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

But sadly, all of the indicators are that cohesion in politics and society will be elusive this long, draining summer.