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While the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like no other.

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

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tone of initial shock, sorrow and terror is segueing to anger and bitter division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic official fight against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so sorely diminished. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the hatred and fear 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 inflammatory, polarizing stances but little understanding at all of that profound fragility.

This is a time when I regret not having a stronger faith. I mourn, because believing in people – in our potential for kindness – has failed us so painfully. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who charged into the gunfire to aid others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, faith-based and ethnic unity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

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

Togetherness, hope and love was the message of faith.

‘Our public places may not appear exactly as they did again.’

And yet segments of the political landscape reacted so disgustingly quickly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and accusation.

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

Observe the harmful message of division from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the site was even cold. Then consider the words of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a formidable job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and scared and seeking the light and, importantly, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate protection? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the family home when the security agency has so openly and consistently warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not weapons that kill. Of course, each point are valid. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent firearms away from its potential perpetrators.

In this metropolis of immense splendor, of clear azure skies above ocean and shore, the water and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for family, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in art or the natural world.

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

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, outrage, sadness, bewilderment and loss we require each other more than ever.

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

But sadly, all of the indicators are that cohesion in public life and the community will be elusive this extended, enervating summer.