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As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday across languorous days of beach and blistering heat set to the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to characterize the collective disposition after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple discontent.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of initial shock, sorrow and horror is shifting to fury and bitter division.

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

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

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with blistering, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

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 kindness – has failed us so acutely. A different source, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to help others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic unity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of love and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, light and love was the essence of faith.

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

And yet segments of the political landscape responded so nauseatingly swiftly with division, blame and recrimination.

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

Observe the harmful message of division from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the words 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 scared and seeking the light and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

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

How rapidly we were treated to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously pursue new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and keep guns away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of profound splendor, of pristine blue heavens above sea and shore, the water and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for family, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in culture or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are calling off Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these times of fear, anger, sadness, bewilderment and loss we require each other more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the portents are that cohesion in public life and the community will be elusive this long, enervating summer.