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As Australia winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and scorching heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to characterize the collective disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack 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 postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of immediate surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and dread of faith-based persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

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

This is a period when I regret not having a greater faith. I mourn, because believing in humanity – in our potential for kindness – has failed us so painfully. A different source, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to aid fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and cultural unity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid gloom), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of belief.

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

And yet segments of the Australian polity responded so nauseatingly quickly with division, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a cynical chance to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Witness the dangerous message of division from veteran fomenters of Australian racial division, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the hope and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently alerted of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that cause death. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously pursue new ways to prevent violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of immense splendor, of clear blue heavens above ocean and shore, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem quite the same again to the multitude who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in art or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these times of fear, outrage, sadness, confusion and loss we require 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 portents are that cohesion in politics and society will be elusive this extended, enervating summer.