“The only exception I have for, to have an abortion, is in that case of the life of a mother,” Richard Mourdock, the Republican Party’s nominee for Indiana’s Senate seat, said in a debate on Tuesday. “I struggled with it myself for a long time, but I came to realize life is that gift from God. And I think even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that it is, uh, something that God intended to happen.” Is it now—and is that supposed to be some sort of comfort? It is not a revelation that Mourdock would limit abortion to women who might actually die; Paul Ryan, left to his own devices, would do the same, and so would a lot of Republicans. (See: Todd Akin.) What is striking here is how narrow his idea of mercy is for women in difficult circumstances—that, and, glaringly, the implication that a rapist might be God’s instrument. When that was pointed out to Mourdock, he released a statement that got him into even murkier theological territory:

God creates life, and that was my point. God does not want rape, and by no means was I suggesting that he does. Rape is a horrible thing, and for anyone to twist my words otherwise is absurd and sick.

Anyone hurt by his words, by that reckoning, is “absurd and sick.” That is quite a charge, given the puzzle that he’s presented. Is Mourdock’s God an absent-minded God, who allows rapes to occur when he is looking in the other direction, and then rushes in to make the best of it? Mourdock almost suggest that he is a God with narrow powers, a sort of fertility deity conjured up by the circumstances of conception, who either does or doesn’t make it happen. The logical extensions lead nowhere. How do we know that it wasn’t God’s will that the Supreme Court decided Roe v. Wade the way it did? The national discussion on a woman’s right to choose has arrived at the level of kindergarten theodicy.

At a press conference on Wednesday morning, Mourdock said that he “abhors” rape—good to know—and that God does, too, and that he was sorry if anyone “came away with the wrong meaning.” But he “could not apologize” for what he had actually said, as much as others had “twisted” his words. “I didn’t intend that God wants rape, that he pushes people to rape,” Mourdock said. And yet: “I believe God controls the universe. I don’t think biology works simply in an uncontrolled fashion.” And there, again, was God at the fertility switch. He was “humbled,” but he wasn’t really worried. “I know, because polling shows it, that at least eighty per cent of Americans, and maybe even more Hoosiers, think God is author of all life.” (Polling does often seem more like divination than science.) His comments, he thought, might “energize people who supported me.”

Watching the clip of Mourdock’s comments in the debate, one is outraged. Watching the full exchange, with all three candidates—Mourdock plus Joe Donnelly, the Democratic nominee, and Andrew Horning, a Libertarian—one also gets very tired. Here are four men, counting the moderator. All three candidates oppose abortion rights. Donnelly, the Democrat, thinks that there should be exceptions for rape, incest, and the life of the mother—and that’s it. Horning, the Libertarian, starts talking about men’s rights: “You can’t just say no to child support, for instance.” When Mourdock, who speaks last, makes his rape comment, none of them pick up on it. Donnelly uses his rebuttal period to talk about a “neat” place in his home town where pregnant women who don’t have abortions can stay. Then they start arguing about Obamacare.

Later, Donnelly and his campaign realized what Mourdock had said, and rightly took him to task. But the lack of women on that stage—on many stages—may be the fundamental problem. Donnelly represents a chance for the Democrats to keep the Senate; his party’s platform, unlike Mourdock’s, does embrace the right to choose. But it would be a real failure not to also hold him to account for a position that is also extreme.

Mourdock is not some fringe figure on a street corner. He is a fair representative of where much of his party has ended up on this issue. Mitt Romney just made an ad for him, and although his spokesman said that he didn’t agree with Mourdock about rape; John Cornyn, the chairman of the National Republican Senatorial Committee, came out to support him.

Romney has said that he does support exceptions to an abortion ban for victims of rape and incest, but, as I’ve written before, that does not make him a moderate. Who would a woman have to appeal to to prove that she had been raped in order to be allowed to end her pregnancy? How long would that take, how vulnerable would she have to make herself to legal machinations, further exposure to her rapist, or the condescending disdain of men like Mourdock? Or is that what he supposes he is sparing survivors of rape by taking the whole question of access for them off the table? How, for that matter, would Richard Mourdock and his cohort want her to prove that she might die if she saw the pregnancy through? Would a small but significant risk be enough? If she was denied access and did die, or was left disabled, where would God’s intention be?