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As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of beach and scorching heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood feels, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic understatement to describe the collective disposition after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple discontent.

Across the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of initial shock, grief and terror is segueing to anger and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional crackdown 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 humanity is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and dread of faith-based targeting on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but no sense at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for compassion – has let us down so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the gunfire to help fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and cultural unity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the meaning of the Festival of Lights (light amid gloom), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for hope.

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 political landscape responded so nauseatingly quickly with division, finger-pointing and accusation.

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

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of political figures while the probe was still active.

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and frightened and looking for the hope and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as probable, did such a large open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the family home when the security agency has so publicly and consistently warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Of course, each point are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and keep guns away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of profound beauty, of clear azure skies above sea and sand, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We long right now for comprehension and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Reflective solitude will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these days of anxiety, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and grief we need each other more than ever.

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

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