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As Australia winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to characterize the collective temperament after the antisemitic violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Across 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 terror is shifting to anger and deep division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional fight 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 diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and fear of faith-based persecution on this continent or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, divisive stances but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has failed us so painfully. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound instances of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – police officers and paramedics, those who ran towards the danger to help others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and cultural unity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, light and compassion was the message of faith.

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

And yet segments of the political landscape reacted so disgustingly quickly with division, finger-pointing and recrimination.

Some elected officials moved straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Witness the harmful message of disunity from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the words of political figures while the probe was still active.

Politics has a daunting job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and scared and looking for the hope and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged 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 family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently alerted of the danger of antisemitic violence?

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

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of pristine blue heavens above ocean and sand, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of beauty 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 counterintuitively against instinct. For in these times of fear, anger, melancholy, confusion and loss we need each other more than ever.

The reassurance of togetherness – the human glue of the unity in the very word – is what we probably need most.

But tragically, all of the portents are that cohesion in politics and the community will be elusive this extended, draining summer.