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As Australia settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the background of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

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

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

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community 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 right to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

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

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, divisive views but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in people – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who charged into the danger 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 community, religious and cultural solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the meaning of Hanukah (light amid gloom), there was so much appropriate 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 Australian polity responded so nauseatingly quickly with division, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a cynical chance to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures 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 seeking the light and, not least, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient protection? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so openly and repeatedly warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its potential actors.

In this city of immense splendor, of clear blue heavens above sea and shore, the ocean and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in art or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, outrage, melancholy, bewilderment and loss we need each other more than ever.

The reassurance of togetherness – the human glue of the unity in the very word – is what we likely need most.

But sadly, all of the portents are that unity in politics and the community will be elusive this extended, enervating summer.