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As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish 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 shock, grief and horror is segueing to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, 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 belief in mankind is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and dread of faith-based persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the banal hot takes of those with blistering, divisive stances but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because having faith in people – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so acutely. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and cultural unity was admirably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of belief.

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

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

Some politicians moved straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the dangerous message of division from longstanding agitators of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the words of political figures while the probe was ongoing.

Politics has a formidable job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the light and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that cause death. Of course, each point are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of profound beauty, of pristine azure skies above sea and sand, the water and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension 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. Reflective solitude will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these times of fear, anger, melancholy, confusion and loss we require each other more than ever.

The reassurance of community – the binding force 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 hard to find this extended, enervating summer.