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As Australia winds down for a customary Christmas holiday across languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the national temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations 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 deep division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against genocide.

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 religious and ethnic targeting on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, polarizing stances but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

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

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the gunfire to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and ethnic unity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the symbolism of Hanukah (light amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and compassion was the message of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not appear exactly as they did again.’

And yet elements of the Australian polity responded so disgustingly swiftly with division, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Witness the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding agitators of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and frightened and seeking the hope and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as probable, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and consistently alerted of the danger of antisemitic violence?

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

In this metropolis of immense splendor, of pristine azure skies above sea and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the multitude who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Reflective solitude will feel more appropriate.

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these times of anxiety, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and loss we require each other more than ever.

The comfort of togetherness – the binding force of the unity in the very word – is what we probably need most.

But sadly, all of the portents are that cohesion in politics and the community will be hard to find this long, draining summer.