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While Australia settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and scorching heat set to the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the country’s summer mood feels, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of simple discontent.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of initial shock, sorrow and horror is segueing to fury 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 far more urgent, energetic government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the right to peacefully protest against genocide.

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

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, divisive stances but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in mankind’s capacity for compassion – has failed us so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of community, religious and cultural solidarity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of targeted violence.

In keeping with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid gloom), there was so much fitting reference of the need for hope.

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of belief.

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

And yet elements of the Australian polity responded so disgustingly swiftly with division, blame and accusation.

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical opportunity to question Australia’s migration rules.

Witness the dangerous message of division from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the massacre before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the probe was still active.

Politics has a daunting job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the light and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the family home when the security agency has so openly and consistently alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that cause death. Naturally, both things are true. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and keep guns away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of clear blue heavens above sea and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for family, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will feel more appropriate.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and grief we require each other more than ever.

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

But sadly, all of the indicators are that cohesion in public life and society will be elusive this long, enervating summer.