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As the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to characterize the collective temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple discontent.

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

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive 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 moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have endured the hatred and dread of faith-based persecution on this land or elsewhere.

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

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in people – in our potential for compassion – has failed us so acutely. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the danger to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and ethnic solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a time of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the essence of belief.

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

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

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a calculating opportunity to question Australia’s migration rules.

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

Politics has a daunting task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the hope and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Naturally, each point are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep guns away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of profound beauty, of clear blue heavens above ocean and shore, the water and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for understanding and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these times of fear, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and loss we require each other now more than ever.

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

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