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As Australia settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of beach and scorching heat set to the background of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside 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 tone of immediate shock, sorrow and terror is segueing to fury and bitter polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous government and institutional fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the animosity and fear of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep churning out at us the banal hot takes of those with blistering, polarizing stances but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater faith. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has let us down so acutely. Something else, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – 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 unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and ethnic solidarity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid gloom), there was so much fitting reference of the need for hope.

Togetherness, light and compassion was the message of belief.

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

And yet segments of the Australian polity reacted so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a cynical opportunity to question Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful rhetoric of disunity from longstanding agitators of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was still active.

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the light and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully 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 danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Of course, each point are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

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

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

This weekend many Australians are calling off Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more in order.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these days of fear, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and loss 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.