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As the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer mood feels, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the national temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Throughout 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 division.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official crackdown against antisemitism with the right to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

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

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

This is a time when I lament not having a greater faith. I lament, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has let us down so acutely. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and cultural solidarity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a time of targeted violence.

In keeping with the meaning of Hanukah (light amid gloom), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Unity, hope and love was the message of belief.

‘Our shared community spaces may not appear quite the same again.’

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so disgustingly quickly with division, blame and recrimination.

Some elected officials moved straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the dangerous message of division from longstanding agitators of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Politics has a formidable task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the light and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah celebration 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 quickly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Naturally, both things are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of clear azure skies above ocean and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not seem quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We long right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will seem more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these days of fear, anger, sadness, bewilderment and grief we need each other now more than ever.

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

But sadly, all of the portents are that cohesion in public life and the community will be elusive this extended, draining summer.