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As the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the background of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, sadly, like none before.

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

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate shock, grief and horror is segueing to anger and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

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

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, divisive views but no sense at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater faith. I lament, because having faith in people – in mankind’s capacity for compassion – has failed us so acutely. Something else, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to aid others, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and ethnic solidarity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a message of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, light and compassion was the message of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not look quite the same again.’

And yet segments of the political landscape reacted so disgustingly quickly with division, blame and accusation.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a calculating chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful rhetoric of disunity from veteran agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the investigation 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, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as likely, did such a large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully insufficient protection? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so openly and consistently alerted of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Of course, each point are true. It’s possible to simultaneously pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its possible actors.

In this city of profound splendor, of clear blue heavens above sea and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

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

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will seem more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, anger, sadness, confusion and grief we need each other more than ever.

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

But sadly, all of the indicators are that cohesion in politics and the community will be elusive this extended, enervating summer.