I have always loved the first five lines of the carol "Away in a Manger." We see a picture of a stable with hay and cattle, a manger that becomes a bed. We get a vivid reminder of the story of Jesus birth in which there was no room inside the inn, and the baby was born in a stable.

One of the powerful aspects of this story is God coming among humans in human form. The divine is no longer just a distant mystery but can be reached here. There is a lovely African prayer that gives thanks that we can kneel before the incarnate God and look God in the eyes.

The other telling thing about this story is that the family is pushed to the margins. The inn is full of those who can afford to pay. No one makes space for the mother about to give birth. The stable, warmed only by the animals who live there, is the place she finds shelter. The idea that God cares about those on the margins, is present among those society pushes aside, challenges social norms.

This week, I saw a picture of a nativity scene with Mary, Joseph, and the baby behind bars in separate cells. A powerful reminder of the horror taking place among those attempting to migrate north through Mexico. The story of Jesus' birth as a marginalized migrant, for the family had traveled from home to Bethlehem, challenges this injustice.

As much as I love the first five lines of "Away in a Manger," last year, I lost patience with the sixth line of the carol. Remember it? I have to start with the fifth, because that is part of the narrative: "The cattle are lowing; the baby awakes./But little Lord Jesus no crying he makes." You have got to be kidding me! A real baby, woken by a strange noise, cries.

The unreality of that line is a stark contrast to the opening. But worse, it tells the children singing the song that good children don't cry. If they are to imitate Jesus--his love for the outsider and his self-sacrifice and his wisdom--they shouldn't cry.

But Jesus wept at the tomb of his friend Lazarus. And I bet that as a new born, when he was hungry, he cried. The way a baby can communicate is to cry. We need them to cry so that we can comfort and reassure them, give them what they need.

Children need to cry. They need to be able to let sorrow and fear and worry out. If they hurt, they are welcome to cry. It helps and asks others to help them.

And adults need to cry. We need to release the grief that is in us. We need to let go of the frustration.

The message of "Away in a manger" that the good don't cry is just wrong.

My solution this year was to rewrite the second verse. I'm not sure the third verse is what I would choose as the most important message, but leave that. It's the second verse that deeply troubles me.

I asked myself, what would happen when the cattle started bawling, their voices echoing in the small stable. The baby would wake and cry with fear and likely hunger. Then what? Here is my version of the second verse:

The cattle are lowing the baby awakes
the little lord Jesus a great cry he makes.
His father will lift him and wrap him up tight
His mother will hold him and soothe him just right.

It's pretty singable. And the message to the children is that if they cry they will be comforted. Lots of the ancient Hebrew psalms give this message: cry out to God and you will be comforted.

I've asked my congregation to sing the carol this way for this year. If they don't like it, we just won't ever sing this song again in a time when I get to choose the music. At least for this season, I won't have to feel guilty singing with the children, and the adults, that if we are good we won't cry.

Cathy Hird is a United Church minister living on the shore of Georgian Bay.