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While Australia settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic understatement to characterize the national temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of simple discontent.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of immediate shock, sorrow and terror is segueing to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous official crackdown against antisemitism with the right to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in humanity 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 persecution on this land or anywhere else.

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

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger faith. I mourn, because believing in people – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has let us down so acutely. Something else, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and cultural solidarity was admirably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the meaning of Hanukah (light amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and compassion was the message of faith.

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

And yet segments of the Australian polity reacted so nauseatingly swiftly with division, finger-pointing and recrimination.

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

Observe the harmful rhetoric of division from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

Government has a formidable job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the light and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly insufficient security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and consistently warned of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that cliched line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and keep guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this metropolis of immense splendor, of clear blue heavens above sea and shore, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We yearn right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in art or the natural world.

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, outrage, sadness, 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 sadly, all of the indicators are that unity in politics and society will be elusive this extended, draining summer.