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As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer mood seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during Bondi 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 tone of immediate surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to fury and deep division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

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

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

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because believing in people – in mankind’s capacity for kindness – has let us down so painfully. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and ethnic solidarity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of targeted violence.

In keeping with the symbolism of Hanukah (light amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Unity, light and compassion was the essence of faith.

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

And yet elements of the Australian polity reacted so disgustingly quickly with fragmentation, blame and recrimination.

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

Observe the harmful rhetoric of disunity from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the probe was still active.

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

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a significant open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate protection? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently alerted of the threat 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 at the same time seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of pristine azure skies above sea and shore, the water and the beaches – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will feel more appropriate.

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

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

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