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As Australia winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to characterize the national temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah festivities 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, sorrow and horror is segueing to fury and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the right to demonstrate against genocide.

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

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

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in people – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has let us down so acutely. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the horror 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 medical staff, those who charged into the danger to aid fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the police tape still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, faith-based and cultural unity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of unifying 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 fitting reference of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, light and compassion was the message of faith.

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

And yet segments of the political landscape responded so disgustingly quickly with division, finger-pointing and accusation.

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

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the light and, not least, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly insufficient protection? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly alerted of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired argument (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that kill. Of course, each point are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of pristine azure skies above ocean and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific 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. Quiet contemplation will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these days of anxiety, outrage, sadness, confusion and loss we require each other more than ever.

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

But sadly, all of the indicators are that cohesion in politics and the community will be elusive this long, draining summer.