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As the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the national disposition after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of immediate surprise, sorrow and horror is shifting to fury and bitter division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic official crackdown against antisemitism with the right 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 particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and dread of faith-based persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, divisive stances but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in people – in our potential for kindness – has failed us so acutely. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic unity was laudably championed by religious figures. It was a call of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Unity, light and compassion was the message of belief.

‘Our shared community spaces may not look exactly as they did again.’

And yet segments of the Australian polity responded so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and recrimination.

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

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of division from longstanding agitators of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the words of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Politics has a formidable job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and scared and looking for the hope and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a significant open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently warned of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Of course, both things are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and keep guns away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of profound splendor, of clear azure skies above ocean and shore, the water and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not seem quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or nature.

This weekend many Australians are calling off Christmas party plans. Reflective solitude will feel more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, anger, sadness, bewilderment and loss we need each other more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the portents are that unity in politics and the community will be hard to find this extended, draining summer.