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As Australia winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the background of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood feels, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the national temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of initial shock, grief and terror is shifting to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have endured the hatred and dread of religious and ethnic targeting on this land or anywhere else.

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

This is a period when I regret not having a greater faith. I lament, because having faith in people – in mankind’s capacity for kindness – has failed us so acutely. Something else, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such profound instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and ethnic unity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the meaning of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Unity, light and compassion was the essence of faith.

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

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so nauseatingly quickly with division, blame and recrimination.

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

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the hope and, not least, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and consistently warned of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that cause death. Naturally, each point are true. It’s possible to simultaneously pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and keep guns away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of profound splendor, of clear blue heavens above sea and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not seem quite the same again to the multitude who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for family, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or the natural world.

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, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and loss we require each other more than ever.

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

But sadly, all of the indicators are that cohesion in politics and the community will be hard to find this long, draining summer.