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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the collective disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tone of immediate shock, sorrow and horror is segueing to anger and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the hatred and dread of faith-based persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger faith. I mourn, because believing in humanity – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so acutely. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – police officers and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to help others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and ethnic solidarity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of targeted violence.

In keeping with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for hope.

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the message of faith.

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

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

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a cynical opportunity to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful message of disunity from veteran agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the words of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and frightened and seeking the light and, not least, explanations to so many questions.

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 protection? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and keep firearms away from its possible actors.

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

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

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

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, 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 the community will be hard to find this long, draining summer.