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As Australia winds down for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat set to the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the collective disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere discontent.

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

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so sorely depleted. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and fear of religious and ethnic targeting on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with inflammatory, divisive stances but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger faith. I lament, because believing in humanity – in our capacity for compassion – has failed us so acutely. Something else, a greater power, is needed.

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 ran towards the gunfire to help fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic unity was admirably 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 symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid darkness), there was so much fitting reference of the need for hope.

Unity, hope and compassion was the message of faith.

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

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

Some elected officials moved straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the harmful rhetoric of disunity from longstanding fomenters of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Politics has a daunting task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and frightened and looking for the light and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so openly and repeatedly warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s possible to at the same time seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this metropolis of immense splendor, of pristine blue heavens above ocean and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, anger, sadness, confusion 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 likely need most.

But sadly, all of the indicators are that unity in politics and society will be hard to find this extended, draining summer.