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As Australia winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood seems, sadly, like no other.

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

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of immediate shock, grief and horror is segueing to anger and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to demonstrate against genocide.

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

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, divisive views but no sense at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater spiritual belief. I mourn, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has let us down so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of social, faith-based and cultural solidarity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of Hanukah (light amid darkness), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for hope.

Unity, light and love was the essence of belief.

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

And yet segments of the political landscape reacted so nauseatingly quickly with division, finger-pointing and accusation.

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

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of division from veteran agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Government has a formidable job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and frightened and seeking the light and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a large open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so openly and consistently alerted of the danger of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound beauty, of pristine azure skies above ocean and shore, the water and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for family, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more in order.

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

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

But sadly, all of the portents are that unity in politics and the community will be elusive this long, enervating summer.