Article
Creed
Holidays/vacations
Psychology
6 min read

The case for taking a holiday

The reasons we need to rest and re-boot.

Natalie produces and narrates The Seen & Unseen Aloud podcast. She's an Anglican minister and a trained actor.

On a beach lounger someone holds a book aloft to read.

Well, here we are, either literally or metaphorically breaking up for the summer. School’s out and the long evenings demand al-fresco dining – even in the UK where it’s far more likely than not to rain. And of course, it is time to Live Our Best Life as we chase the fantasy and book an eye-wateringly expensive holiday – to “get away from it all”.  

In my early adulthood, holidays were unquestionably lying on a sun-drenched beach with a very large pile of novels. It was escapism pure and simple. And sun worshipping. Then I went on a skiing holiday for the first time in my 30s and was amazed how refreshing it was. When you’re concentrating on not dying, hurtling at high speed down a slippery mountain, the regular patterns of thought are left behind; there is simply no headspace to worry about the things that normally occupy the mind. I came back from a week on the snow with my body feeling completely trashed but my mind fresher than ever before.  

But whatever our holiday preference, be it active, sedentary or a cocktail of both, it is short-lived. A fortnight is the average length of a holiday, maybe it’s just a cheeky long weekend. If you’re really pushing the boat out (literally if going on a cruise as many people do these days a) – a luxurious three or even four weeks. But however long it is, it is – by definition – not lifelong. We build up to it – “can’t wait to get away” and there can be huge expectation for all the things we’ve been struggling with to be magically less stressful “when I get back”. We think all the exhaustion we carry, all the frustration or disappointment, the overworking we live with on a daily basis, will disappear. We binge on relaxation and put huge pressure on ourselves to HAVE FUN and – that which has become the sly new marketing strategy – “making great memories”. Which can all turn out to be even harder work than what we’re trying to get away from. 

Last summer, we went to the Lake District. And it rained. A lot. I mean coming in under the doors/through the windows sort of a lot. So we played Monopoly. And watched the Mission Impossible films. We went for walks in the rain and ate picnics quickly between showers. It was rather like we were living through a low budget British 1980s adaptation of an Enid Blyton novel, instead of the big budget Caribbean fantasia of one’s dreams. By any official descriptor, it was a holiday – but I’m not sure it felt like one.  

There is a call for some time to be kept holy, time set apart when we’re not busy being busy, when we remember that we are human and limited and need rest.

So, as I’m keenly interested in the etymology of words, I looked up holiday* to find out whether I had achieved the objective. Holiday = a period of time when you are not at work or school – check; holiday = a period of time spent travelling or resting away from home – hmm, not sure about the resting but we were away; holiday = holy day – hang on, what? 

Most world religions or philosophies have some sort of rhythm or pattern for life which includes times of rest. These often (though not always) coincide with some sort of worship or festival. These are times set apart from the day-to-day occupation of “normal life”. Interestingly, in the Judeo-Christian tradition, rest is baked in right from the beginning. After a six “day” working week, so the beginning of the Creation story tells us, God rested. And just to underline the point, sometime later, that same God gave his people the 10 Commandments, one of which is – take a day off.  

The word “holy” means set apart, sacred and right at the heart of the Jewish and Christian lifestyle there is a call for some time to be kept holy, time set apart when we’re not busy being busy, when we remember that we are human and limited and need rest. When we can get some objectivity on our productivity; when we can see (as God did all those years ago) that what we have done is good and we can enjoy it. 

In our 24/7, I-achieve-therefore-I-am culture, we almost certainly don’t do nothing for a day a week. We are always doing something. Even on our day(s) off, we’re reading or scrolling or running or “making memories”. Where is the rest? Where is the holy?  

We don’t function properly – by which I mean we don’t flourish – if we never switch off. That’s how we were made. 

There is an ironically busy industry that has flourished in recent years around mindfulness and retreats; an industry which highlights the ultimately human need for rest. There are apps which help us breathe, there are gurus who massage us in body and mind. Cynically, some say capitalism has caught on to the ancient necessity of acknowledging and attending to our humanity, our need to stop doing and simply be. I think God would say, hooray! Or as Jesus put it, “Come with me to a quiet place and find some rest.” 

How can we put rest back on the agenda of our own lives? It’s different for each of us. One person’s rest is another person’s nightmare. Whatever it looks like, we need to learn how to have “a period of time not working” (whatever work may occupy us, paid or unpaid, seen or unseen). It’s a well-recognised fact that if your electronic device stops functioning properly, if you turn it off for a bit, it’ll restart happily and we are encouraged to restart our devices regularly. We all know that we’re a bit like that and yet... We don’t function properly – by which I mean we don’t flourish – if we never switch off. That’s how we were made.  

We need those moments when we put a spiritual umbrella in the glass of our life, kick back and look at what has been. We can give space for gratitude; for reconnection with ourselves, with our life and even with the omnipotent God who role models rest. 

So, this summer, we’re going to the South of France. I’m absolutely exhausted already. I’ve been organising a rota of (very kind) people to look after our dog; preparing work so I’m ready for the day after we get back; buying gallons of sun cream (just in case France runs out); booking trips and Googling where the nearest boulangerie is so we can have idyllic, spontaneous visits for life-changingly delicious croissants… Going on holiday is really hard work and I haven’t even gone yet. But this year, as I put on my sunglasses and factor 30, I am determined to make time to put the holy in my holiday. And holy days in my life. 

* (of course, if you’re not British, you might be interested in the etymology of the word vacation = "formal suspension of activity, time in which there is an intermission of usual employment"/state of being unoccupied. Which to my mind is summed up by the old adage, a change is as good as a rest, with which I have always taken issue….) 

Review
Books
Culture
Podcasts
Re-enchanting
4 min read

Find your next holiday read with the top picks of the Re-Enchanting guests

Recommendations across the genres.

Tom Rippon is Assistant Editor at Roots for Churches, an ecumenical charity.

A person lying on a beach holds a book up to read.
'It was the best of times.'
Dan Dumitriu on Unsplash.

Summertime is well and truly here and with the UK currently sweltering under one of the driest years on record, you would be well advised to seek out indoor activities to occupy the hottest hours of the day. But what to do with this time? So many options jostle for our attention and, as Rachel Luckett recently reflected for Seen & Unseen, reading is losing out with the number of readers steadily dropping year on year. Luckett reminds us that what we read is as important as how much we read; recommendations which intrigue and stimulate us are essential and the best place to get such recommendations is stimulating conversation.  

Where do I find these conversations, I hear you ask. Well, look no further than the Re-enchanting podcast from Seen & Unseen with its perennial opening question: what are you reading? To kick start your holiday reading, here’s a round-up of our guests’ choices from season six of Re-Enchanting. 

In retrospect, our guests seem to have a pronounced inclination towards biography and memoir. Earlier this year, Re-enchanting welcomed the notable forensic scientist, Sue Black, onto the show to discuss her (scientific) fascination with all things living and dead. Despite, or perhaps because of, a life spent looking death in the face, Black begins our summer reading with Richard Holloway’s meditation on a fading life, Waiting for the Last Bus

Whilst Black’s distinct lack of squeamishness may be not be shared by all, her desire to piece together the lives and stories of those she meets seems to be a common thread linking many of our guests. Those contemplating a continental get-away might wish to search for inspiration in Paris, a memoir of life in the French capital by Julian Green, recommended by Andrew Davison, Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford University. For those planning holidays further afield, then perhaps a biography of Australian opera singer Nellie Melba, recommended by Kate Flaherty, would add a touch of glamour, along with the autobiography of Melba’s friend and fellow performer, Ellen Terry.  

Also falling into the memoir genre is this season’s stand-out recommendation: Helen McDonald’s H for Hawk, which is currently sitting on the bedside tables of Tyler Staton, pastor of Bridgetown Church, Portland, Graham Tomlin and Belle Tindell. Whilst processing the death of her father, McDonald attempts her long-held ambition to train a hawk, and crafts a surprising and poignant book from the twin experiences. 

McDonald is not the only writer to twist multiple strands and genres into her work; many of our guests’ choices defy definite categorisation. Flaherty, a Senior Lecturer in English and Drama at the Australian National University, also recommends Ali Smith’s Artful, which contemplates art, faith, and fiction, and Murriyang: Song of Time, a ‘psalter’ according to its author, Stan Grant, combining Christian and Australian aboriginal spirituality.   

Changing spiritualities are also on the mind of Chine McDonald, the Director of Theos think tank and the first guest to return to Re-enchanting following her initial appearance more than a year ago. On McDonald’s reading list is The Afternoon of Christianity: The Courage to Change by Tomas Halik, who ponders Christianity’s midlife era and what lies ahead for the faith and faithful alike. One way in which the world has changed over the last century is through the withdrawal of ritual from Western society, according to the German-Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han, whose book The Fading of Ritual—or Vom Verschwinden der Rituale for any German speakers among us—comes with a recommendation from Esther Maria Magnis. Is the pairing of Halik and Han the literary match that reflections on modern Christianity have been waiting for? 

If imagining the future of the Christian faith sounds too heavy for the summer holiday, then why not dip into some of our guests’ fiction suggestions? From Jo Swinney, Director of Communications at A Rocha, comes the modern classic, A House for Mr Biswas, by Nobel laureate, V. S. Naipaul, whilst Rupert Shortt, who, as a former editor of the TLS, knows a thing or two about books, currently reading S. J. Naudé’s Fathers and Fugitives, which takes us on a journey from London to South Africa into a complex story of family, sexuality and relationships.  Readers looking for short form fiction could opt for either Ben Judah’s This is London: Life and Death in the World City, or for a more international perspective, Dream Count, the latest novel by renowned Nigerian writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. 

And, finally, Les Isaac, the founder of Street Pastors, reminds us of the importance of responding to the Bible itself. So, if you’re looking for gut-wrenching narratives and a sense of wonder playing out through characters who are just all-too-human, then look no further than the book which in the Middle Ages was known as a bibliotheca, a whole library in itself. 

  

And some additional suggestions: 

Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe 

Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh 

The Great Partnership: God, Science and the Search for Meaning by Jonathan Sacks 

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