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As Australia settles into for a customary Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer mood feels, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the collective temperament after the antisemitic violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere discontent.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate shock, sorrow and terror is shifting to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right 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 sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have endured the animosity and dread of religious and ethnic persecution on this continent or anywhere else.

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

This is a period when I lament not having a greater spiritual belief. I mourn, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s capacity for kindness – has let us down so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, religious and cultural solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Unity, light and love was the message of belief.

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

And yet elements of the Australian polity responded so nauseatingly swiftly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and recrimination.

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

Witness the dangerous message of disunity from veteran fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the light and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as probable, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and consistently alerted of the danger of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Of course, each point are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound beauty, of clear azure skies above sea and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in art or the natural world.

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

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

The reassurance of togetherness – 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 public life and society will be hard to find this extended, draining summer.