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As the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like none before.

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the collective temperament after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere discontent.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate shock, grief and terror is segueing to anger and bitter division.

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

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so deeply diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and dread of faith-based targeting on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the banal instant opinions of those with inflammatory, divisive views but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in people – in our capacity for compassion – has let us down so acutely. Something else, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and ethnic solidarity was admirably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.

Consistent with the meaning of Hanukah (illumination amid gloom), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and love was the essence of faith.

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

And yet elements of the Australian polity responded so disgustingly swiftly with division, blame and recrimination.

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating chance to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of division from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the probe was still active.

Politics has a formidable job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and frightened 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 large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so publicly and consistently warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and keep firearms away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of immense splendor, of clear blue heavens above sea and sand, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We long right now for comprehension and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in culture or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these times of anxiety, anger, sadness, bewilderment and grief 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 sadly, all of the portents are that cohesion in public life and society will be hard to find this extended, draining summer.