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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the country’s summer mood seems, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic understatement to describe the national disposition after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of mere ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tone of immediate shock, sorrow and horror is segueing to fury and bitter polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the hatred and fear of religious and ethnic persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the banal hot takes of those with blistering, polarizing views but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in people – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has let us down so acutely. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the gunfire to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and cultural solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Unity, hope and love was the message of faith.

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

And yet segments of the Australian polity responded so disgustingly quickly with division, blame and recrimination.

Some elected officials moved 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, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Politics has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and frightened and looking for the light and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so publicly and consistently alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that tired argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of profound beauty, of pristine blue heavens above ocean and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for understanding and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the solace 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, sadness, confusion 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 likely need most.

But tragically, all of the portents are that unity in politics and society will be hard to find this extended, enervating summer.