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While the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and scorching heat set to the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like no other.

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

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of initial surprise, grief and horror is segueing to anger and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic official fight against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so sorely depleted. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the animosity and dread of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the banal instant opinions of those with blistering, divisive views but little understanding at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a time when I regret not having a greater spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in people – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has let us down so painfully. Something else, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to aid others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and ethnic solidarity was admirably championed by religious figures. It was a message of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the symbolism of Hanukah (illumination amid gloom), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, light and love was the essence of belief.

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

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

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

Witness the dangerous rhetoric of division from longstanding fomenters of Australian racial division, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and frightened and seeking the hope and, not least, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as probable, did such a large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently alerted of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were treated to that cliched line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of profound beauty, of pristine blue heavens above sea and shore, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene violence.

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

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

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of anxiety, outrage, melancholy, bewilderment and loss we need each other more than ever.

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

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