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As Australia settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer mood seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a dramatic understatement to characterize the collective disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of initial surprise, sorrow and horror is shifting to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic official crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

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

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with inflammatory, divisive stances but little understanding 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 our capacity for compassion – has let us down so acutely. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – police officers and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the police tape still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and cultural solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the essence of belief.

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

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

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

Observe the dangerous message of division from veteran fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was still active.

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and frightened and seeking the hope and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration 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 repeatedly warned of the threat of antisemitic violence?

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

In this metropolis of profound splendor, of clear blue heavens above sea and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not seem quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We long right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture 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 days of fear, anger, sadness, bewilderment and grief we need each other now more than ever.

The comfort of togetherness – the binding force of the unity in the very word – is what we likely need most.

But sadly, all of the indicators are that unity in politics and society will be hard to find this extended, draining summer.