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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of coast and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a dramatic understatement to describe the national disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of initial shock, grief and horror is segueing to anger and bitter division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official fight against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against genocide.

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 religious and ethnic persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the banal hot takes of those with inflammatory, divisive stances but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because having faith in humanity – in mankind’s capacity for compassion – has let us down so acutely. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – police officers and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to help others, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and ethnic unity was admirably 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 meaning of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for hope.

Unity, light and love was the essence of belief.

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

And yet segments of the Australian polity reacted so disgustingly quickly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and recrimination.

Some elected officials moved straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to question Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful rhetoric of disunity from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and scared and seeking the light and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as likely, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully insufficient security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so openly and consistently warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

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

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of clear blue heavens above sea and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will feel more appropriate.

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

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

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