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While Australia settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat set to the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the national temperament after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of initial surprise, sorrow and horror is shifting to fury and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the right to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and fear of faith-based persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, divisive views but no sense at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater faith. I mourn, because having faith in people – in our capacity for compassion – has failed us so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

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

When the barrier cordon still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and cultural unity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a message of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a time of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, light and compassion was the message of belief.

‘Our shared community spaces may not appear quite the same again.’

And yet elements of the political landscape reacted so disgustingly swiftly with division, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the harmful rhetoric of division from veteran agitators of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the words 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 seeking the light and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully 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 warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that cause death. Of course, each point are valid. It’s possible to at the same time seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of immense beauty, of clear blue heavens above sea and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We long right now for comprehension and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in art or nature.

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

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these times of anxiety, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and loss we require 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 portents are that cohesion in politics and society will be elusive this long, draining summer.