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While the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of beach and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood seems, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a significant oversimplification to characterize the national temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of mere ennui.

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

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, vigorous government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the freedom 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 diminished. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and fear of faith-based persecution on this land or anywhere else.

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

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because believing in people – in mankind’s capacity for compassion – has failed us so acutely. A different source, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to aid others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of social, faith-based and cultural unity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid gloom), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for hope.

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of faith.

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

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

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful message of division from longstanding fomenters of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Politics has a formidable task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the hope and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s people not guns that kill. Of course, both things are true. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and keep firearms away from its potential actors.

In this city of immense splendor, of pristine blue heavens above ocean and shore, the water and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the multitude who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or nature.

This weekend many Australians are calling off Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these days of fear, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and loss we need each other now more than ever.

The comfort of community – the binding force of the unity in the very word – is what we probably need most.

But tragically, all of the portents are that unity in politics and the community will be elusive this extended, draining summer.