I remember as a child being mystified by a Danish fairy tale written by Hans Christian Andersen called The Emperor’s New Clothes.

It features an emperor who is concerned solely with his outer appearance. Two swindlers convince him that they will make him the finest suit of clothes with a beautiful and magical cloth that can only be seen by people who are smart and fit for their societal status.

His assistants can’t see any cloth, but they pretend they do so as not to appear unfit and stupid to their boss or to anyone else. When the swindlers pretend to dress the emperor in this fine attire, everyone in his court admires him and the beautiful outfit that doesn’t exist.

Eventually, the emperor processes through town, preening. All in the crowd have heard about the magical cloth, and all are concerned about their appearance so they all speak highly of him and his “clothing.”

But finally, a little child sees him and says in a loud voice, “But the emperor has no clothes!” And after a time, the crowd takes up the cry until even the emperor realizes he is parading around in his underwear.

As a child, what astonished me was how easily the crowd accepted the bogus tale and went along with it, even though it was so obviously ludicrous. I would guess that most children would think the story is hilarious.

I don’t find it funny anymore.

Like the emperor and the crowd in the fable, a whole lot of people nowadays end up constructing in their minds unrealities where, for example, a pregnant woman is not carrying a human baby, and two men together or two women together can be husband and wife.

To some extent each of us folds a little unreality into our lives. We don’t start out seeing the truth of ourselves and others — neither the bad nor the good. Our views of what is important in life differ depending on how we were raised.

Needless to say, the devil is happy to capitalize on our weak places, and he can push us around to some extent — tempting us to be attracted to evil and repelled by goodness, for example, or to stay stuck in feelings of such unworthiness that we can’t believe in God’s love.

All of us have our own unknown blind spots and our known unwillingness to accept certain realities. (Anybody else sometimes act like desserts have no calories?)

With Pontius Pilate we can ask, “What is truth?” Unlike him, we still are alive and can find truth with a capital “T” before us in the person of Jesus — if we are willing to look.

One work of the Church is to help us in that quest. The Church is where we receive those all-important sacraments that cleanse our souls and give us great spiritual assistance.

Some of the most mind-blowing reality-touchstones are our saints. Their lives and their writings can shake dust and cobwebs out of our heads and clear our eyes to see the world differently, from a more Godly perspective.

God is the author of the deeper realities beyond the physical, but His truth does not deny the world He created. If we study our faith and welcome our Church’s guidance, we will better grasp both the visible and invisible. But that ability will not come to those who keep their faith in the margins of their lives.

The presence of untruth in our society is prevalent, often communicated in subtle ways. We absorb our views of life without realizing it, through songs and stories mostly.

If we don’t take charge of our lives and choose to consume what is truly good, we will be part of the misled and fickle crowds. Let us instead welcome the gifts that Jesus gives us in our Church.

Let us become like that one child who could see clearly and announce innocently that, “The emperor has no clothes!”