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While Australia settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the national disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of mere ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate surprise, sorrow and horror is shifting to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official 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 humanity is so deeply diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and dread of religious and ethnic targeting on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, divisive views but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because believing in people – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so painfully. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to help others, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of social, faith-based and cultural solidarity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a call 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 (light amid gloom), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for hope.

Togetherness, light and compassion was the message of faith.

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

And yet elements of the political landscape reacted so nauseatingly quickly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

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

Witness the dangerous message of division from veteran agitators of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

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 questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were subjected to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that cause death. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and keep guns away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of pristine blue heavens above ocean and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not seem quite the same again to the multitude who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We yearn right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in art or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these times of anxiety, anger, sadness, confusion and loss we need each other now more than ever.

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

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