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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the national disposition after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere ennui.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of immediate surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to anger and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the right to demonstrate against genocide.

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

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because having faith in humanity – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so painfully. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to help fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic unity was admirably championed by religious figures. It was a call of love and tolerance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Unity, light and love was the essence of faith.

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

And yet elements of the Australian polity responded so nauseatingly swiftly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and recrimination.

Some politicians moved straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the harmful rhetoric of disunity from veteran agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the words of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a formidable job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and scared and looking for the light and, not least, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a large open-air 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 domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and consistently warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Of course, each point are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously pursue new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and prevent guns away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of profound beauty, of pristine blue heavens above sea and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not seem quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We long right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the consolation 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 somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of anxiety, anger, sadness, bewilderment and grief we require each other more than ever.

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

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