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While the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a significant oversimplification to characterize the collective disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of initial surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to anger and bitter division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to peacefully protest against genocide.

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 animosity and dread of religious and ethnic targeting on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but no sense at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because having faith in humanity – in our capacity for compassion – has let us down so acutely. Something else, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – police officers and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to help others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, faith-based and cultural solidarity was admirably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid gloom), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of faith.

‘Our public places may not appear quite the same again.’

And yet segments of the Australian polity reacted so nauseatingly quickly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful message of disunity from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the massacre before the site was even cold. Then read the words of political figures while the investigation was still active.

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

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as likely, did such a large open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that cause death. Of course, each point are true. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of clear azure skies above sea and sand, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem quite the same again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We long right now for understanding and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of anxiety, outrage, melancholy, confusion and loss we need each other 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 portents are that unity in politics and society will be hard to find this long, draining summer.