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As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday across languorous days of beach and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Throughout 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 anger and deep division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the right to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the hatred and fear of faith-based persecution on this continent or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, divisive stances but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a time when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in people – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has let us down so painfully. Something else, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – police officers and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger 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 imperative of community, religious and ethnic solidarity was admirably championed by religious figures. It was a message of love and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light 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 Australian polity reacted so disgustingly quickly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to question Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful message of division from longstanding agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the words of political figures while the investigation was still active.

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

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so openly and repeatedly warned of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

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

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

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these times of anxiety, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and grief we need each other 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 indicators are that cohesion in politics and the community will be hard to find this long, draining summer.