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While Australia winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the national disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

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

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and dread of faith-based persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because believing in people – in our potential for kindness – has failed us so acutely. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and cultural solidarity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of faith.

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

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

Some politicians gravitated straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a calculating opportunity to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Witness the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

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

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and consistently alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Of course, both things are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and keep guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this metropolis of profound beauty, of clear azure skies above sea and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for family, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or nature.

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

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

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

But tragically, all of the portents are that cohesion in politics and the community will be hard to find this extended, draining summer.