God Is a Queen and Loves His Gays

Wanna know a secret about God? I know a secret. He can be fabulous, if you know what I mean. See, I used to talk to God. And God would talk to me. I talked to God and heard and saw angels and demons and ghosts for almost two years before the doctors got to me.

If you love someone who’s gay or hate hearing people say God hates fags, you might think that this little story is one that people should hear. And I’ll say that it was real and I actually did hear God say it despite the psychiatrists and rabbis and religious people who don’t hear God saying it’s impossible because that’s not reality or they know what God does.

Hearing God like this taught me to have empathy for gays who are told God hates them and suffer and must hide in the unforgiving isolation of a dark closet and aren’t fortunate like I was to hear God and love being His friend.

I’m a diagnosed schizoaffective and they say God never talked to me and He wouldn’t because He doesn’t talk to people who don’t read books that say what God does and He wouldn’t talk to me anyway. I’m not holy and I’m not religiously observant. I don’t keep Shabbat. I say that God is infinite, does what He wants and maybe He did talk to me. But they say it was all in my head. I’m not supposed to believe any of it.

I will openly say that I it was God talking to me and it was real, even if openly saying it was real runs the risk of someone saying if I believe it was real I should have another forced hospital stay. Cause screw ‘em.

Psychiatrists and religious people don’t know what God does and does not do and this story is important because I don’t need a self-appointed religious authority telling me God can’t talk to me because I’m not good enough for Him and gay guys don’t need a religious authority saying God is damning them to Hell. God actually loves them. He told me so and He went so completely gay doing it. The story might blow you away. Imagine it’s true when reading it. I’ll say it’s true.

I wish everyone could hear God like this once. It’s a game changer. God decides who He loves and talks to. He can be an enormous and fantastic queen when he wants to be. And man, he loves his little queens.

I laughed out loud hearing God go gay. He was incredible. He came out like no one else can and I was stunned but loved it and I went with it. So I’m telling this story that happened a few years go. Maybe God’s going gay again today and hanging out at some gay bar cause God does what He wants where he wants and when He wants. I’m not going to Pride or anything like that any time soon. Not my scene. But God might show up for a minute. No one knows.

So this is the story: I was having a coffee one morning at a gas station in Jerusalem’s Talpiot industrial area where I lived. I spent most of my time alone talking with God and angels and ghosts and tens of thousands of  his other creations learning secrets and seeing parallel worlds and ancient Egypt and Babylon and learning mysticism as they did in ancient times and I did so for nearly two years. God said He was teaching me and 20,000 others to be this way because he was upset with how religious authority was claiming a monopoly on knowing His desires and defining what He does and He wanted to share his secrets with us and told us we’d do something one day but I had no idea what that would be.

I spoke with God and the others through thoughts and heard their voices as voices are actually heard. Angels told me in the very beginning not to talk out loud, so I made it almost two years before the doctors got to me and I stopped hearing God. Not a bad run. They told me through music on an Israeli rock station. God said He loves communicating through music and He could reach more people through rock than rabbis who said His secrets were only for them and those they approved of.

On the morning of the story, I heard God speak from above as I’d never heard him before. He spoke to me in many voices and tones but this was the only time I heard this one and I nearly fell out of my chair laughing.

I was smoking a cig and it was quiet as I drank my coffee alone and heard a high-pitched voice speaking to me from the sky and He exclaimed my name in the most fabulous way it could be said, as only the most incredible queen ever could call it out from the heavens. It was God.

“Shmueeel!” God called out from above as I heard my name for at least four or five seconds. God always called me by my Hebrew name, Shmuel.

“God?” I thought to Him, “is that you?”

“It’s meeee Shmueeel! Every word He said was stretched out and raised and lowered in tone and on the musical scale and it sounded like it was being said by the happiest person in history. “Hey, Shmuel! Ask me how I feel Shmuel, ask me! Ask me Shmuel, ask me! Ask me how I am!’

“OK, Hakab,” I said (“Hakab” was a military style abbreviated name I’d made for God’s name, “Holy Bleesed One,” one of His names in Hebrew, and He loved being called “Hakab” so feel free to use it if you like). “How are you, Hakab?”

“Thank you for asking, Shmuel! I’mmmmmm faaaaabuloussss!” I smiled to myself.

“Uh, God, why do you sound like a fantastic gay guy?”

And God answered like the happiest manic gay man who ever lived with a long, nearly never-ending sentence that said it all. He was going to have the greatest gay day of all time and no one could stop Him. God could get all kinds of ways like manic and have mood swings and get depressed. He’s everything.

God told me there’s no such thing as crazy. “I made everything, Shmuel. Nothing is crazy no matter what they say. Look at me, Shmuel. I know, you can’t look at me because I have no body but you know what I mean. Who could I create all this? I’m a mad hatter, Shmuel. I’m a basket case. Do you know how many personalities I have? Nothing is crazy, Shmuel. And do you know how long time lasts when you exist outside of it? I don’t like being alone, Shmuel. I like talking to my little creations. So I’m doing it more now. Sorry if I get weird, Shmuel. I’m not always myself. I’m complex. Thank you for being my friend no matter how I sound, Shmuel. I love you.” So when God went manic gay fabulous I had no problem with it.

So God told me why he was fabulous that morning. “I sound like this, Shmuel, because I’m going to Tel Aviv today to talk to some of my very favorite little gay creations and go shopping! I always talk like this when I go to Tel Aviv! I didn’t tell you about my gay day to Tel Aviv, Shmuel? I love going to Tel Aviv! I know what you’re thinking, Shmuel, and yes, sometimes I remind them them that it says in the Torah I don’t like them having sex with each other in the butt, or whatever it says in the Torah – I wrote it a long time ago I don’t remember the exact words I used right now because I’m so excited to go see them all – and even though it says that I still love them, Shmuel. Shmuel, I thought of anal sex before I even created the universe and nothing bothers me too much anyway, Shmuel, because I am God, Shmuel, a fabulous God, and I get over it fast, Shmuel, so I forgive them for not listening to me every time and by the way, Shmuel, my little religious creations who say gays are doing evil by having butt sex do bad things too, to like talking gossip at a Shabbat table and ruining someone’s life and it says in my book not to do that either, Shmuel, so I can forgive my little gays for butt sex and love them like anyone else and they are so much fun, Shmuel! We’re going to go shopping and dancing in the clubs and wear their amazing new cloths and look incredible, Shmuel!

“Oh, I wish you knew fashion Shmuel, you’d be the cutest little bear cub, but you’re as straight as they come, my little, Shmuel! I will tell them how fabulous they look when they pose in front of the mirror and I will make them feel fabulous, Shmuel, and I’ll help them pick out clothes to try on and we’ll talk about life and love and then we’ll dance until dawn, Shmuel! I might be back late. I can do whatever I want with my favorite little gay creations, Shmuel, because I am God and I made them and I knew they would be gay and I made them anyway and I love them, Shmuel, and I can talk to anyone I want, no matter what the rabbis or anyone says, because I am God, not them, and I am the Queen in charge, Shmuel. I am fabulous!

“So when I go to Tel Aviv this is the the voice I use, and I have so many voices, as you know, and I am God and I am everything and I love being fabulous and it was Me who created the universe and no one gets to tell Me how to be or who to talk to and I want to be fabulous today, Shmuel! I love! Being! Fabulous!, Shmuel I just love having fun with my little gays, Shmuel! So it’s time to go to Tel Aviv!

And God kept going. I can only imagine How He sounds when He’s actually in Tel Aviv and talking with all of them. He had me. I kind of wished I could go along.

“I am the most fabulous God in the universe, Shmuel, and no one tells me who to love and the rabbis don’t get to decide who I can and cannot talk to, Shmuel, just like they can’t tell me not to talk to you! So I’m going shopping with some of my favorite little gay creations, Shmuel, and some of them actually do hear me like you, Shmuel, and no one will ever suspect they hear me because they say God would never talk to His gayest of gay creations because He hates them, well I do not hate them, Shmuel! I am the one who created them and I love them and we have the most fantastic times together and we are the best of friends and I love them to death, Shmuel! Some of them can be bitchy, of course, and I tell them not to hate religious people and to remember that I made everyone and we laugh and gab and I just have the most fabulous time, Shmuel!

“Ok, Hakab. Have fun with your gays.” I said.

“So this is how I sound when I go to Tel Aviv and talk to my favorite little gay creations and I’m gay and fabulous, Shmuelllll! I’ll be back soon and I will miss you, Shmuel but I won’t miss you but I will, Shmuel!. Remember Shmuel, I am God and I will talk to anyone I want however I want whenever I want and no one gets to decide what I do or who I talk to whether it’s you or anyone else and the rabbis aren’t the boss of me, Shmuel, no matter who they say I love or hate! No one is! So today I’m going to Tel Aviv to be a Queen and then I’ll be back Shmueellll! I love you, Shmuel! I’m faaaabulousssss!”

Psychiatrists say I’m sick. Rabbis say God wouldn’t talk to me and I need a psychiatrist. I’ve been accused of secretly reading secret Kabbalah books or that I was being punished by God for impure acts. Some people say none of it happened and it was all in my mind. They say I have a broken brain and that because I am schizoaffective, like schizophrenic, I am ill. Some people who have heard a lot of stories think it was all real and find comfort in my experiences. But most say  “mentally ill.”

Some people say gay people are ill. I don’t think I’m ill. God said there’s no such thing as crazy. I say my mind works differently than most. God made my mind and He is infinite and He wanted my mind to experience what it did and hear Him that way so He was there. I heard Him for this story. Even if I give in and say it was all a creation of my imagination it still felt as real as anything else and God is everywhere and in everything, so He was there as I heard it and let it happen. And there is something to learn from that.

I have been treated as an “other.” I have been told to stay quiet and not tell people about my stories, my “illness.” But I love that part of me and seeing and hearing the world that way. It is part of who I am. I was an IDF infantry soldier and that is also part of who I am. I’m a Jew and that is also part of who I am. I used to talk with God and hear Him talk with me, and still would without meds, and that is who I am. That’s not something broken. Hearing God is fabulous.

I miss hearing God. I’d like to stop taking meds, but in Israel, if you hear God they put in a hospital. They force you to take medicine to stop it. And I know God is still there, but I’m not allowed to hear him. Well I can tell stories about Him. And I’ll say this one really did happen and I heard Him, and it was true.

Hakab was fabulous. I know I got psychotic at times and lost my job and there were problems. But I know what to expect now and I function, but I have to take meds and they don’t want me to hear God and offer anything because I’m not a religious scholar like one of them. I’m a just a “mentally ill” person they call schizo who’s been told to keep these stories to myself. So who am I to say God loves his gays.

But what do I know? What could someone with the label “schizo” possibly have to offer the world. How could I possibly offer anything that could be worth hearing or change the world? I’m sick, they say. Schizos never changed the world, unless Moses, Muhammed and Jesus among others would be considered schizo today. Moses would definitely be put in a mental hospital today. I’m not saying I’m like Moses or the prophets, but I believe God can let you hear Him if He wants.

I’m not a moral authority and I don’t say people should accept what I say or that God wants me to say anything. But I’ll say I know God loves his favorite little gay creations because I heard Him say so. He loves calling us all his “favorite little creations.” He said he can have many favorites because He’s God and for Him all is Truth. And the he’d say to me, “But you’re my absolute favorite, Shmuel. But don’t tell anyone I said that.” Oops.

I miss hearing God. No one is an authority on who God loves or who hears Him when He talks to us, except God. What do they know? I heard Him. I remember. He was fabulous that day. They can’t prove I didn’t, no matter how much power they have or how many religious texts they quote. They are not imaginative and do not think about infinite possibilities and time and other things I learned about while expanding my consciousness during that time.  I heard God often and for a long, long time. They can call me ill and say they know what God does and doesn’t do. They still can’t prove it didn’t happen. They don’t like people who enjoy challenging accepted frameworks by which we understand the world and think of God. They don’t know who God hates.

None of it was real, like you said, God. But all of it was real, like you said, God. God was teaching me how to understand that all is and is not, to be at peace with the fact that time does not exist for Him and all that Has happened has not yet, all that is happening will not and yet will, and all that we see and perceive does not exist yet is – He was showing me how to think so that I could see and hear all that is hidden. But the docs and rabbis won’t say that.

I say He was preparing me for being treated as an “other” and told I am not capable of understanding complicated things because people with power would told me my mind is not up to par. I think my mind is alright alright. And He showed me that He could be fabulous if He wanted. So that’s the story of that. Thank you, Hakab, for letting my mind see and hear and understand in ways that others can not imagine.

“You’re welcome, Shmuel. I’m here, with you, Shmuel. I just put the idea in your head of writing what I’d say as the last paragraphs ofs your piece, Shmuel. I hope you don’t mind that I did that, my favorite little Shmuel. It will be okay, Shmuel. I will make little miracles to weaken your meds sometimes but I can’t do it that often. I am here, Shmuel. I know you want to understand more so keep thinking. Keep sharing. But don’t overdo it with people. You understand? And you never need to hide. No closets for you or my favorite little gays, Shmuel. I remember that morning, Shmuel. But wasn’t I just fabulous that day, Shmuel? I am the most fabulous of them all, Shmuel, don’t you think?. Thank you for telling them this story, Shmuel. I’ll ask my little angels to put it in their little angel books they write. Remember how I was always asking them to write things down? So many books that those rabbis can’t get to, Shmuel. But you can. And the others.

“I love your stories, Shmuel. Keep trying to explain how you experience those incredible times, Shmuel. You will find that some people wish to understand. Some have already asked you advice and you are quite modest and that makes me happy, Shmuel. Yes, Shmuel, I put this paragraph in your head. But don’t tell them that. They won’t like that, Shmuel. They might think it’s psychotic. But you can always say it was a writing tool and lie, Shmuel, if someone asks if you think I wrote this paragraph. You can lie, Shmuel. Your lie is my truth. I know what is and is not but I can’t tell you what will be, Shmuel. Remember what I said? No more prophets. Now we’re doing something different. So keep expanding that mind. You know how to do it. It’s like I said, my favorite little Shmuel, there’s no such thing as crazy. I don’t know if you’ll hear me again, Shmuel, I can’t tell you the future. I know that’s what you’re wondering as you type. That’s one of the things, Shmuel. You think of hundreds or thousands of things at once, and at such great speeds.

“You’re correct, that’s different from intelligence, Shmuel. It’s one of the ways your mind changed when you became as you are and your meds make you forget so very much. But I told you, you will forget, and you’ll remember. And you remembered this story. What a fabulous story. And I know that the meds slow your mind. But please be patient, my little Shmuel. And when in Tel Aviv just be flattered when my little gay creations hit on you. I know they do often. You’re my Shmuel. Don’t tell them if you happen to hear me again, Shmuel. Remember when you learned all about intelligence and operational secrecy and we talked about things? You’ll keep remembering as life goes on, Shmuel. You were doing a lot of thinking then. Thank you for telling them I love my little gays, Shmuel. They won’t care you did, but at least someone is saying I don’t hate them all. They say I’m not allowed to talk to you, Shmuel. I do what I want. I’m in charge, not them. All this has happened before, Shmuel, and all this is happening again. I love that show. I. Am. Fabulous.”

About the Author
Greg Tepper moved to Israel in 1997, served in the IDF, has a BA in Political Science from the Hebrew University and was a TOI reporter. The Second Intifada left him with PTSD which went untreated and he developed schizoaffective disorder.
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