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

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the collective temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate shock, grief and horror is shifting to anger and deep division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous government and institutional fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and dread of faith-based persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the banal hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater faith. I lament, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has let us down so acutely. Something else, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. 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 imperative of social, religious and cultural unity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the message of belief.

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

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and recrimination.

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

Witness the dangerous message of disunity from veteran fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the words of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Politics has a formidable job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and frightened and seeking the hope and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a large open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate protection? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that cause death. Naturally, each point are true. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this metropolis of profound beauty, of clear azure skies above ocean and shore, the ocean and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem quite the same again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

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

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will seem more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of anxiety, outrage, melancholy, confusion and loss we require each other now more than ever.

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

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