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As Australia winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic understatement to describe the national temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tone of immediate shock, grief and terror is shifting to anger and bitter division.

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 far more urgent, vigorous official fight 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 belief in mankind is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured 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, divisive views but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

This is a time when I regret not having a greater faith. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for compassion – has failed us so painfully. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to aid fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of community, faith-based and cultural solidarity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the message of belief.

‘Our public places may not appear exactly as they did again.’

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

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Witness the dangerous message of division from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the massacre before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Politics has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the hope and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the family home when the security agency 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 people not guns that cause death. Of course, each point are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of immense splendor, of clear azure skies above ocean and shore, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or the natural world.

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

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

The reassurance 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 hard to find this long, enervating summer.