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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of beach and blistering heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the collective temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of initial surprise, grief and terror is segueing to fury and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, vigorous official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so sorely diminished. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the animosity and fear of religious and ethnic targeting on this land or elsewhere.

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

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

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and paramedics, those who ran towards the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic solidarity was laudably championed by religious figures. It was a message of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together 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 lightness.

Unity, hope and love was the message of belief.

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

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

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

Witness the dangerous message of disunity from veteran fomenters of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the hope and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the security agency has so openly and repeatedly warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were treated to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s people not weapons that cause death. Of course, both things are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep guns away from its possible actors.

In this city of immense splendor, of clear azure skies above sea and sand, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene 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 cancelling Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more appropriate.

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

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

But tragically, all of the indicators are that unity in politics and society will be elusive this long, draining summer.