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As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the background 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 describe the national disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of immediate shock, sorrow and terror is shifting to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

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

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

This is a time when I lament not having a greater faith. I lament, because believing in people – in our capacity for compassion – has failed us so painfully. 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 courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – police officers and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of community, religious and ethnic unity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the meaning of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and love was the message of faith.

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

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so nauseatingly swiftly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and recrimination.

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

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the words of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a formidable job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the hope and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a significant open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly insufficient security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly alerted of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Naturally, both things are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously pursue new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its possible actors.

In this city of profound beauty, of pristine blue heavens above sea and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these days of anxiety, anger, melancholy, confusion and loss we need each other more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the indicators are that cohesion in public life and society will be hard to find this long, enervating summer.