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While the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the collective disposition after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful 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 frequently expressed fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred 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 sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the hatred and fear of faith-based persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with blistering, polarizing 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 humanity – in our capacity for compassion – has failed us so painfully. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and cultural unity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, hope and love was the message of belief.

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

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

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

Witness the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the massacre before the site was even cold. Then read the words of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Politics has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the light and, not least, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Naturally, each point are true. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep guns away from its potential actors.

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

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

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

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these times of fear, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and grief we need each other more than ever.

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

But sadly, all of the indicators are that unity in public life and society will be hard to find this extended, draining summer.