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While Australia settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to characterize the collective disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple discontent.

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of initial surprise, grief and terror is segueing to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment 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 hatred and dread of religious and ethnic persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, divisive stances but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because believing in humanity – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so painfully. A different source, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, faith-based and cultural unity was laudably championed by religious figures. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, hope and love was the message of faith.

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

And yet elements of the political landscape reacted so disgustingly swiftly with division, blame and recrimination.

Some elected officials moved straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to question Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful rhetoric of disunity from veteran fomenters of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements 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 frightened and looking for the light and, not least, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were treated to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s people not weapons that cause death. Naturally, each point are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its potential actors.

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

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these days of fear, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and grief we require each other now more than ever.

The reassurance 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 the community will be elusive this extended, draining summer.