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As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the national temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of mere discontent.

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of initial surprise, sorrow and horror is shifting to anger and deep division.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, energetic official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so sorely diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and dread of faith-based targeting on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but no sense at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in humanity – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so acutely. Something else, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such profound examples of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic unity was admirably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.

Consistent with the meaning of Hanukah (light amid gloom), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, light and love was the message of belief.

‘Our shared community spaces may not appear quite the same again.’

And yet elements of the political landscape reacted so nauseatingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and recrimination.

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

Witness the harmful rhetoric of disunity from longstanding agitators of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the site was even cold. Then consider the words of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the light and, importantly, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? 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 threat of antisemitic violence?

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

In this metropolis of profound splendor, of pristine azure skies above sea and sand, the water and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will seem more in order.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these days of anxiety, outrage, sadness, confusion and grief we need each other more than ever.

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

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