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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic understatement to describe the collective disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere discontent.

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

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the hatred and fear of faith-based persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep churning out at us the banal instant opinions of those with blistering, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in people – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has failed us so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and cultural solidarity was admirably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the meaning of Hanukah (light amid darkness), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not look quite the same again.’

And yet elements of the Australian polity reacted so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful message of disunity from veteran fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the site was even cold. Then consider the words of political figures while the probe was still active.

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

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a large open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so openly and consistently alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that cause death. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and keep guns away from its possible actors.

In this city of immense beauty, of pristine blue heavens above sea and sand, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for family, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in art or nature.

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

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

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

But sadly, all of the indicators are that unity in public life and society will be elusive this extended, draining summer.