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While the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across languorous days of coast and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the country’s summer mood seems, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic understatement to characterize the collective temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of mere discontent.

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate surprise, sorrow and terror is shifting to fury and deep division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the right 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 sorely diminished. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and fear of faith-based targeting on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, polarizing stances but little understanding at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a period when I regret not having a greater spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in people – in mankind’s capacity for kindness – has failed us so acutely. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who charged into the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic unity was laudably championed by religious figures. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a time of targeted violence.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid gloom), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Unity, hope and compassion was the essence of belief.

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

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

Some elected officials moved straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Witness the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding fomenters of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and scared and seeking the light and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and consistently warned of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Of course, both things are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its potential perpetrators.

In this metropolis of immense splendor, of clear blue heavens above ocean and sand, the water and the beaches – 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 comprehension and significance, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in culture or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more appropriate.

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

The comfort of togetherness – the human glue of the unity in the very word – is what we likely need most.

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