A Little Boy and Truth

In a small town located in a fairly large state, a little boy wearing a striped shirt, muddy jeans and a backwards baseball cap ran down the sidewalk giggling. He scampered by a quiet café where some prestigious looking members of society sat outside enjoying the sun. The little boy, who was no more than six, stopped when he saw a young business man sipping coffee outside the café. With a mischievous grin, he walked up to the man and said, “Hey mister, I saw a somethin’ behind the department store. It was a man asleep in a saddle on a giraffe that had a paintbrush in its mouth dripping paint all over the street.”
The man was visibly annoyed, and said, “What do you want from me, kid? I don’t have any money or candy.” He perused the paper at his table for a moment before looking back at the child. “Didn’t your parents teach you about lying?” The little boy just laughed like a little imp, and dashed away to the next table.
At this table sat a Sociologist and a Psychologist. The boy stated abruptly on reaching them, “Hey, I saw a man sitting in a saddle on a giraffe with a paintbrush in its mouth dripping paint all over the street.”
The two men leaned foreword, intrigued by the little tyke. The Psychologist looked at the child, but addressed his comrade. “What do you suppose made this little one fib like that?”
The Sociologist smiled. “You know what my answer would be. What’s Yours?”
The Psychologist stroked his goatee. “Well, there could be two different possibilities for the source of his statement. One, he is telling a lie for the sake of amusement; or, two, he actually believes he saw this sight. In the likely case of lying for his amusement, one can be well assured this is common behavior for one his age. In the less likely occasion of his hallucinating or mistaking something for what it isn’t, then we can assume it was either a simple misunderstanding on his part, or a graver troubling matter of young mind.”
Sociologist folded his arms. “Indeed, it seems more likely to me that he is not hallucinating, nor has he mistaken something for what it is not. In my opinion, he is indeed either lying for his amusement, or lying as a cry for attention. It is not uncommon in this social structure for parents to be so involved in work or other activities that they disregard the emotional needs their children desire, which are of course mandatory for proper growth. You see, we may be witnessing a product of this societies lack of commitment to the family.”
A Philosopher who was reading a book titled What is Truth? overheard the conversation between the two men, and walked over to them. “Hello gents!” He said in a pleasant voice. “Can I intrude on this case study?”
“By all means!” The Sociologist answered.
The kid put his hand over his mouth and laughed in his boyish manner. “Hey sir! I saw a man in a saddle on a giraffe with a paintbrush in its mouth dripping paint all over the street.”
The Philosopher chuckled while smiling at the boy. “Gentlemen, although I too attribute this boys story to childish ways, how do you know we are not dealing with some aspect situational ‘truth’?”
The men rolled their eyes. “Indeed,” said the Psychologist. “How do you figure?”
The Philosopher tapped his cheek thoughtfully. “You said yourself that the child may be hallucinating, or may have mistaken something for what it is not. In that event, if he believed his own story to be true, despite the fact that it is not, wouldn’t the reality of his believing become his own truth?” The men cocked their heads and pondered the thought.
The boy began to slowly but cheerfully wander away, while whistling to himself. The three men followed, debating amongst themselves. The boy came upon a Pastor, and said with a coy expression. “Hey mister! Behind the department store I saw a man asleep in a saddle on a giraffe that had a paintbrush in its mouth dripping paint all over the street.”
The preacher gave a half smile and patted the boy on the head. Before he could answer the boy, the men trailing behind hailed him.
The Psychologist laughed. “Here, here! Let’s add clergy to our debate.”
“Indeed.” Said the Philosopher. “What is your take on the child’s fib?”
The preacher answered, “Well, you know what they say: ‘Out of the mouths of babes.’”
The Sociologist gave him a wry smile. “You don’t mean to tell us you believe the story, do you?”
The Pastor chuckled. “Of course not. In any instance I teach against lying; but, who is to say a friend didn’t tell him the story?”
The Philosopher answered. “In that case he still would be lying, because he said that he saw it. But, as I told these two gentlemen, the reality of his fantasy could be a sort of truth if he actually believed he saw it. Would you agree?”
“No! Not at all.” Said the Pastor. “Truth is absolute, no matter what people think they see. If a man truly and with all resolve did not believe there was a God, no aspect of that belief would be even a kind of truth.”
The boy kept walking, and the men kept debating. The Sociologist argued for an answer bound in society’s structure. The Psychologist argued for an answer on account of behavior or mind. The Philosopher tried to make his point of a relativistic type of truth found within the obvious falsehood. The Pastor made his case for spiritual matters and the reality of absolute truth.
The group rounded the corner of the same department store the boy spoke of. Sure enough, and as clear as the sun was shining, the entire bunch saw the bizarre sight of a man sleeping in a saddle on a giraffe with a paintbrush in its mouth dripping paint all over the street.