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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and blistering heat set to the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a significant oversimplification to characterize the national temperament after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of mere discontent.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tone of initial surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to anger and deep polarization.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

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

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, divisive views but little understanding at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for kindness – has failed us so painfully. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen 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 charged into the danger to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, faith-based and cultural unity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and acceptance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of targeted violence.

Consistent with the meaning of the Festival of Lights (light amid darkness), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for lightness.

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 nauseatingly swiftly with division, finger-pointing and recrimination.

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

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from veteran fomenters of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was still active.

Politics has a daunting task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the hope and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as likely, did such a large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Of course, each point are true. It’s possible to at the same time seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of profound 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 observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

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

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

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

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

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