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As the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

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

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of initial surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to fury and bitter division.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced fears of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous official fight against antisemitism with the right to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and fear of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or elsewhere.

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

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

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to aid others, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and ethnic unity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the meaning of the Festival of Lights (light amid gloom), there was so much fitting reference of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, light and compassion was the message of belief.

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

And yet elements of the Australian polity reacted so nauseatingly quickly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from veteran fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was still active.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and frightened and seeking the hope and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as probable, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that kill. Naturally, both things are true. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

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

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

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

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, outrage, melancholy, confusion and grief 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 tragically, all of the indicators are that unity in politics and the community will be elusive this long, enervating summer.