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As Australia settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the collective disposition after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

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

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and fear of faith-based targeting on this continent or anywhere else.

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

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has failed us so painfully. Something else, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to help fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and ethnic solidarity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Unity, hope and love was the message of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not appear quite the same again.’

And yet elements of the political landscape reacted so disgustingly quickly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

Some elected officials moved straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a calculating chance to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the harmful rhetoric of division from veteran agitators of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the words of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Politics has a formidable task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the light and, importantly, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Of course, both things 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 city of profound beauty, of clear azure skies above ocean and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

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

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will seem more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these times of anxiety, outrage, melancholy, bewilderment and loss we need each other now more than ever.

The reassurance 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 the community will be hard to find this extended, enervating summer.