Listen to Trevor read this parable (from Round 2 of There Will Be Madness Tournament).
For the Republic of Heaven is like if some chick wants to enter the dating scene and says, “I don’t want to get pregnant. I should rub the Shrine of Sperm-Blocking.”
Yet the monks who polish the shrine tell her, “Shrine polish ain’t free, you know. It’s twenty bucks a month to rub.”
And the chick is all like, “I don’t have that. Most of my money goes to the For Profit Council Who Stands Between Me and Medical Care. But maybe the Council would be willing to pay.” And the Council agrees, because letting her rub saves them like a gazillion dollars.
But then some assholes, who the chick had no plans to date, drag her into a coliseum and go, “Whoa, I am a strict believer in the literal translation of Shit Patriarchal War-Mongering Cavemen Say, and one sect of us has found a passage that kind of means ‘don’t block sperm,’ and somehow this means I am directly subsidizing not killing those who disagree with me and hence she should not be given money to rub.”
And the news media, because they are bored, treat this as a serious concern, and fail to point out that Cavemen Worshipers are not taxed on Cavemen Worshiping money, and that none of this comes out of their taxes.
But the chick asks, “So what then?”
And the assholes reply, “Don’t have sex until you have made a firm financial commitment to a single person, and then only do it when it will result in a baby and you can afford that baby.”
And the chick is all, “You guys can try that if you want, but it’s a biological imperative and I like it and why the fuck would me not having babies affect you anyway and I’m going to rub.”
And the assholes go, “Nope. Religious freedom.”
And she’s, like, “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”
And the assholes go, “No, our religious freedom for you not to exist.”
And then the chick’s eye starts twitching in frustration.
And the assholes explain, “Think of it this way: If your Council pays for it, some shrine-polishing monk who disagrees with sperm-blocking would be forced to go against his beliefs by letting you rub.”
And the chick asks, “Then why did he become a shrine-polishing monk?”
And the hypothetical monk says, “To help people.”
And the assholes go, “Yeah, it’s all about protecting the sanctity of life.”
And in the meantime, some other girl comes rushing in to the coliseum, bruised and fragile, tragic in her desperation, and cries, “There is no metaphor for me. I am 14 and I have been raped and having my baby will kill me. What can I do?”