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While Australia winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of coast and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the collective temperament after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate shock, sorrow and horror is shifting to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the right to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so deeply depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the hatred and fear of religious and ethnic persecution on this continent or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out 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 faith. I mourn, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s capacity for compassion – has failed us so acutely. Something else, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to aid others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and cultural solidarity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Unity, hope and love was the essence of belief.

‘Our public places may not look quite the same again.’

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

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Witness the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the words of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Politics has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and scared and seeking the light and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so publicly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Of course, each point are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of pristine azure skies above sea and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in culture 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 times of anxiety, anger, melancholy, confusion 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 probably need most.

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