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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the national disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of initial shock, sorrow and terror is segueing to anger and deep polarization.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic official crackdown against antisemitism 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 mankind is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and dread of faith-based persecution on this continent or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I regret not having a greater spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for kindness – has let us down so acutely. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – police officers and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to aid others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, faith-based and cultural unity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of love and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the meaning of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for lightness.

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of faith.

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

And yet segments of the political landscape reacted so nauseatingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and recrimination.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to question Australia’s migration rules.

Witness the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding fomenters of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Politics has a daunting job to do when it comes to bringing together 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 open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so openly and repeatedly warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Naturally, both things are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously pursue new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and keep guns away from its potential actors.

In this city of profound beauty, of pristine blue heavens above sea and sand, the water and the coastline – our shared community spaces – 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 horrific violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in art 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 days of fear, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and loss we need each other more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the indicators are that unity in politics and society will be hard to find this extended, enervating summer.