Estrella Benavides' neighbors in San Mateo, California think so.

Benavides, a self-proclaimed "servant of God," has painted her roof and car with large-lettered messages from the Big Cheese in the sky. Rambling passages that speak to some of the burning issues of our day: Gays and lesbians, Fidel Castro and hurricane Katrina, among them. Her display has pitted her against her neighbors and against the law. She insists it's the will of God.

The 48-year-old is no stranger to doing unpleasant things to please her heavenly master. She once clamped shut her mouth with two large pins to keep herself from breaking the religious fast he demanded of her. Apparently, God first started talking to her through a statue in her local church.

It's nothing new: The god-man has been speaking to the faithful for centuries. He ordered his humble French servant Joan of Arc to lead her country's armies into victory against the English. A lot of blood was shed but, hey, he had his reasons. One doesn't question the wishes of the man who once wiped out two cities for unkindness to strangers or gay sex with angels, depending on whether you believe the liberal or conservative interpretation of the Sodom and Gomorrah myth. Of course, evolution-touting scientists say they have evidence that the cities were destroyed by natural causes, i.e., either an earthquake or volcano.

City officials are as just as resistant as scientists to seeing the supposed hand of God. They say that Benavides is in violation of the law. Man's law. Neighbors describe Benavides' work as an eyesore. Robert Owlett told the SF Chronicle: "It's an invasion of my privacy and it degrades the neighborhood. This may not be Hillsborough but, it's all we've got."

Well, God never said s/he had a sense of good taste.

City officials are threatening Benavides with a possible $10,000 a day fine or the loss of her house. The matter will be heard at an upcoming January17 Community Improvement Commission hearing. God's servant is not worried: After all, when you have the supreme one on your side, you don't fuss about insignificant matters such as money or a roof over your head.

As an avowed atheist, I find the idea that God is speaking to Benavides about as credible as George Bush telling the truth. Still, it's curious that in a country where property is sacred that anyone would object to Benavides decorating her roof anyway she wants. Neighbor Owlett says it's okay that she paints the garage with her messages, but not the roof. Seems like an arbitrary line to draw. In terms of local ordinance, does it really outlaw tacky looking religious rants and raves on one's house? What if she had put up a large "bring home the troops now" banner on the roof? The ACLU would have rightly rushed in to her rescue, as would have anti-war activists. I would have been there with them.

It's one thing if she were raising mutant killer roaches and letting them roam free in the neighborhood, or conducting human sacrifices in the backyard barbecue pit.

Perhaps I'm missing something here, but I suspect that this odd little story about an overzealous religious woman has a message for all of us about freedom of speech.

Tommi Avicolli Mecca is a radical southern Italian working class queer performer, activist and writer whose work can be seen at www.avicollimecca.com.