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As Australia settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the collective disposition after the antisemitic violent assault on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple discontent.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of initial shock, grief and horror is shifting to anger and bitter division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous official fight against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against genocide.

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

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the trite instant opinions of those with blistering, divisive views but little understanding at all of that terrifying fragility.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because having faith in people – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so acutely. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity 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 paramedics, those who charged into the danger to aid fellow humans, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of social, religious and ethnic unity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, light and love was the essence of faith.

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

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

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

Witness the dangerous rhetoric of division from veteran fomenters of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the words of leadership aspirants while the probe was ongoing.

Government has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and scared and looking for the light and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as likely, did such a large open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were treated to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Of course, both things are valid. It’s possible to simultaneously pursue new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of immense beauty, of pristine blue heavens above sea and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We long right now for comprehension and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Reflective solitude will feel more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, anger, sadness, bewilderment and grief we need each other 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 public life and society will be hard to find this extended, draining summer.