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While the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and scorching 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 disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of immediate surprise, grief and horror is shifting to anger and bitter division.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so sorely depleted. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and fear of religious and ethnic targeting on this land or elsewhere.

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

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in humanity – in our potential for compassion – has failed us so painfully. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme instances of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the danger to aid others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and cultural unity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the symbolism of Hanukah (illumination amid gloom), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for lightness.

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of belief.

‘Our public places may not appear quite the same again.’

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

Some politicians gravitated straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical opportunity to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Witness the harmful rhetoric of disunity from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the words of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and scared and looking for the light and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.

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 alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Of course, each point are true. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of immense splendor, of clear blue heavens above ocean and sand, 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 jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of anxiety, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and grief we need each other more than ever.

The comfort of togetherness – the binding force 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.