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While the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and scorching heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to characterize the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of initial surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to anger and deep polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns 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 peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and dread of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite instant opinions of those with blistering, divisive stances but no sense at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in humanity – in our potential for compassion – has failed us so painfully. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – police officers and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and cultural solidarity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Unity, hope and love was the essence of belief.

‘Our public places may not appear quite the same again.’

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

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous message of division from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the probe was still active.

Politics 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 likely, did such a significant public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully insufficient security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so publicly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that cause death. Naturally, both things are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously pursue new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of clear azure skies above sea and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in culture or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more in order.

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

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

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