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While the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to characterize the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of mere discontent.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of initial surprise, grief and terror is segueing to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism 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 dread of religious and ethnic targeting on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, divisive stances but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a time when I regret not having a stronger faith. I lament, because believing in people – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has let us down so acutely. A different source, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to aid others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and ethnic solidarity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – 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 reference of the need for lightness.

Unity, hope and love was the essence of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not look exactly as they did again.’

And yet elements of the Australian polity responded so disgustingly quickly with division, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a calculating chance to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from veteran agitators of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the words of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

Politics has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the light and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Of course, each point are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

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

We yearn right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in art or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of anxiety, outrage, sadness, confusion and loss we require each other now more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the indicators are that cohesion in politics and the community will be elusive this extended, draining summer.