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As the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood feels, sadly, like none before.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the collective disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of simple discontent.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of immediate shock, grief and terror is segueing to fury and bitter division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

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 endured the hatred and fear of faith-based persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, polarizing views but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater faith. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in mankind’s capacity for kindness – has let us down so painfully. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – police officers and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to aid others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and cultural solidarity was laudably championed 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 (light amid gloom), there was so much fitting reference of the need for hope.

Togetherness, light and love was the essence of faith.

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

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

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

Witness the harmful message of division from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read 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 grieving and frightened and looking for the hope and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were treated to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Of course, each point are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of pristine blue heavens above sea and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in art or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are calling off Christmas party plans. Reflective solitude will seem more in order.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these times of anxiety, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and loss we require each other now more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the indicators are that unity in politics and society will be elusive this long, draining summer.