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As Australia winds down for a customary Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of beach and scorching heat set to the background of Test cricket 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 temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of immediate surprise, sorrow and terror is shifting to fury and bitter division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional fight against anti-Jewish hatred 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 humanity is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and dread of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal hot takes of those with blistering, divisive views but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater spiritual belief. I mourn, because having faith in people – in our potential for compassion – has let us down so acutely. Something else, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – police officers and paramedics, those who ran towards the danger to aid fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic unity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the symbolism of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for hope.

Togetherness, light and love was the message of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not appear exactly as they did again.’

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

Some politicians gravitated straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a calculating opportunity to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Witness the dangerous message of division from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the words of political figures while the probe was ongoing.

Politics has a formidable job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and frightened and seeking the light and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level 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 six guns in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and consistently alerted of the danger of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Of course, each point are true. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of clear azure skies above ocean and sand, the ocean and the coastline – 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 obscene violence.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or nature.

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

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these times of anxiety, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and grief we need each other more than ever.

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

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