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As the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to characterize the national disposition after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians 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 tone of initial surprise, grief and horror is segueing to anger and deep division.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic official fight against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and fear of religious and ethnic targeting on this continent or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, divisive stances but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I regret not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has let us down so acutely. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic unity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a message of love and acceptance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of targeted violence.

In keeping with the meaning of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid gloom), there was so much fitting reference of the need for lightness.

Unity, light and compassion was the essence of faith.

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

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

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the harmful rhetoric of division from longstanding fomenters of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then read the words of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and frightened and seeking the light and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the family home when the security agency has so openly and consistently alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were treated to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s people not weapons that kill. Of course, each point are valid. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep guns away from its potential perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of pristine blue heavens above sea and shore, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We long right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in culture or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will seem more appropriate.

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

The reassurance of togetherness – the human glue 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.