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As Australia winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the background of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like none before.

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

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of immediate shock, sorrow and horror is shifting to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right 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 especially so for those of us lucky never to have endured the hatred and dread of religious and ethnic persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep churning out at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, divisive views but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s 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 witnessed such profound instances of human decency. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to aid fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and ethnic unity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of love and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, light and compassion was the essence of belief.

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

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

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

Observe the harmful message of division from longstanding agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Politics has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the hope and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a significant 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 security agency has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were treated to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Of course, both things are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to stop violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of immense splendor, of clear azure skies above sea and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not seem entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

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

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Reflective solitude will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these times of fear, outrage, sadness, confusion and grief we require each other now more than ever.

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

But tragically, all of the portents are that cohesion in politics and the community will be elusive this extended, draining summer.