I am not a religious person. The closest I come to spirituality is throwing my arms in the air at an Iron Maiden concert to catch a bottle of urine. So when my mother – a reverend – press ganged me into her pilgrimage to Israel, the Holy Land, I feared that, at best, its virtues would sail angel-like over my head, and at worst the very air would sear my Dawkins-bothering skin. Instead, although I stopped short of an immaculate conversion, it proved to be one of the most profound experiences of my travelling life. There’s more to Israel than religion Undoubtedly religion is inextricably tied to most aspects of life in Israel, from the conflicts that populate the news to elevators conditioned to stop at every floor of a hotel to ensure Jews don’t violate the Shabbat. But there are plenty of other things to do in Israel, be it the high-walled streets of Jerusalem lined with markets selling knock-off antiques and pick ‘n’ mix sweets, gangs of camels that smell like gangrenous feet, ...