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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 nation's summer atmosphere seems, sadly, like none before.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to characterize the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of simple discontent.

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 bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the often voiced fears of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic government and institutional crackdown against antisemitism with the right to demonstrate 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 lucky never to have endured the hatred and fear of faith-based persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, divisive views but little understanding at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a time when I regret not having a greater faith. I mourn, because believing in humanity – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, faith-based and ethnic solidarity 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.

In keeping with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid darkness), there was so much fitting reference of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, light and love was the message of faith.

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

And yet segments of the Australian polity responded so nauseatingly quickly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

Some elected officials moved straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to question Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the dangerous message of division from veteran agitators of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the probe was ongoing.

Government has a formidable job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and frightened and looking for the light and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully insufficient security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of clear azure skies above ocean and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in art or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these days of fear, outrage, sadness, confusion and loss we require each other more than ever.

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

But sadly, all of the portents are that unity in public life and society will be hard to find this long, draining summer.