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As the nation winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and scorching heat set to the background of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the collective disposition after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of simple discontent.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of initial surprise, grief and horror is segueing to anger and deep division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of Australian Jews are now acutely aware. Just as, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous government and institutional fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so sorely depleted. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the animosity and dread of faith-based targeting on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the banal instant opinions of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a time when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because believing in humanity – in mankind’s capacity for kindness – has let us down so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to help others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and ethnic unity was admirably championed by religious figures. It was a call of love and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of targeted violence.

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

Unity, light and love was the essence of faith.

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

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

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

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and frightened and looking for the light and, importantly, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly insufficient security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were subjected to that tired argument (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Of course, both things are true. It’s feasible to simultaneously seek new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and keep firearms away from its potential actors.

In this city of profound splendor, of pristine azure skies above ocean and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not seem quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene violence.

We long right now for understanding 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. Quiet contemplation will seem more appropriate.

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

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

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