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

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the collective temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to fury and bitter polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional 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 belief in mankind is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and fear of faith-based persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with inflammatory, divisive views but no sense at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I regret not having a greater spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in people – in our capacity for kindness – has failed us so acutely. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to aid others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and ethnic unity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the symbolism of Hanukah (illumination amid gloom), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of belief.

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

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

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding agitators of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the words of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

Government has a formidable job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and frightened and looking for the light and, importantly, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a large open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully insufficient protection? 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 antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Of course, each point are valid. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and keep firearms away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of clear blue heavens above ocean and shore, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We yearn right now for comprehension and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in culture or the natural world.

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

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

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

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