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

It would be a dramatic understatement to describe the collective temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tone of initial surprise, grief and horror is shifting to fury and bitter division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

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

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite instant opinions of those with blistering, polarizing views but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

This is a time when I regret not having a greater spiritual belief. I mourn, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s capacity for compassion – has let us down so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of community, faith-based and cultural unity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, hope and compassion was the message of faith.

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

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

Some politicians moved straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a calculating chance to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Witness the harmful message of disunity from veteran fomenters of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the massacre before the site was even cold. Then read the words of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Politics has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the hope and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully insufficient protection? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently alerted of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that cliched line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s possible to at the same time seek new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and prevent guns away from its possible actors.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of clear azure skies above sea and shore, the ocean and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

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

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

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these times of anxiety, outrage, sadness, bewilderment 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 cohesion in politics and society will be elusive this extended, draining summer.