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While the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere discontent.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tone of immediate shock, sorrow and horror is shifting to anger and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the right to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and fear of religious and ethnic targeting on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite instant opinions 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 believing in people – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so acutely. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and cultural unity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of love and tolerance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of faith.

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

And yet elements of the political landscape reacted so nauseatingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

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

Witness the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from veteran agitators of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was still active.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the light and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as likely, did such a significant open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and consistently warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Of course, each point are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to prevent 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 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 family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or nature.

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

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

The reassurance 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 unity in politics and society will be hard to find this long, enervating summer.