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While Australia 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 mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the collective disposition after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of mere ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate surprise, grief and horror is segueing to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so deeply diminished. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and fear of faith-based persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the banal hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing stances but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I regret not having a greater faith. I mourn, because having faith in people – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has failed us so acutely. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – police officers and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Unity, light and compassion was the message of faith.

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

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so nauseatingly quickly with division, blame and accusation.

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

Observe the harmful message of disunity from veteran agitators of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the hope and, not least, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a large open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate protection? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and consistently warned of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Of course, each point are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of pristine azure skies above sea and shore, the water and the beaches – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

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

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will seem more in order.

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

The comfort of community – 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 long, enervating summer.