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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the background of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the collective disposition after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of mere ennui.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of initial surprise, sorrow and horror is segueing to anger and deep division.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, vigorous official fight against antisemitism with the right to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in mankind is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and dread of religious and ethnic persecution on this land or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep churning out at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, divisive stances but no sense at all of that profound vulnerability.

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

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to aid others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic unity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a time of targeted violence.

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

Togetherness, light and compassion was the essence of belief.

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

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

Some elected officials moved straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical opportunity to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the harmful message of disunity from veteran agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the words of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

Politics has a formidable job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the hope and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Naturally, both things are true. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its potential actors.

In this city of profound splendor, of pristine azure skies above ocean and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not seem quite the same again to the multitude who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific violence.

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

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these days of fear, outrage, sadness, bewilderment 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 likely need most.

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