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

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the national disposition after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of Australian cities – a tenor of initial shock, sorrow and horror is shifting to anger and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the right to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the hatred and fear of religious and ethnic persecution on this continent or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep churning out at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing stances but no sense at all of that profound vulnerability.

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

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to aid fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and cultural unity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a time of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, light and love was the essence of faith.

‘Our public places may not appear exactly as they did again.’

And yet segments of the political landscape reacted so nauseatingly quickly with division, blame and accusation.

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

Observe the harmful message of division from veteran fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene 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 grieving and frightened and looking for the light and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a large public 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 repeatedly alerted of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that cause death. Of course, each point are true. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its possible actors.

In this city of immense splendor, of pristine azure skies above ocean and sand, the water and the beaches – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We long right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in culture or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will feel more appropriate.

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

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

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