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While Australia 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 significant understatement to characterize the national disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

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

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic official fight against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the hatred and dread of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with blistering, divisive stances but little understanding at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for kindness – has let us down so painfully. Something else, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, faith-based and cultural solidarity was admirably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of love and tolerance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of Hanukah (illumination amid gloom), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for hope.

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the message of belief.

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

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

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

Observe the harmful message of disunity from veteran fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was still active.

Politics has a daunting job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and scared and seeking the hope and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not weapons that cause death. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s possible to at the same time seek new ways to prevent violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of immense splendor, of pristine blue heavens above sea and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We long right now for comprehension and meaning, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in art or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these days of fear, outrage, melancholy, confusion and grief we need each other now more than ever.

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

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