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As the nation winds down for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and scorching heat set to the soundtrack of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood seems, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the national disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tone of immediate surprise, sorrow and horror is segueing to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and fear of faith-based persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, polarizing stances but no sense at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because having faith in people – in our capacity for compassion – has failed us so acutely. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of community, religious and cultural unity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of targeted violence.

Consistent with the meaning of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the message of belief.

‘Our shared community spaces may not appear exactly as they did again.’

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so disgustingly quickly with division, finger-pointing and recrimination.

Some elected officials gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a cynical opportunity to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful message of disunity from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Politics has a formidable task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and frightened and looking for the hope and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so publicly and repeatedly alerted of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s people not guns that kill. Naturally, both things are true. It’s possible to at the same time seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its possible actors.

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

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or nature.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of anxiety, anger, sadness, confusion and grief we require each other now more than ever.

The reassurance of togetherness – the binding force of the unity in the very word – is what we likely need most.

But tragically, all of the indicators are that unity in public life and society will be elusive this extended, enervating summer.