y biblical literature students come from so many religious backgrounds that it's difficult for me to avoid offending someone. A few believe that God dictated the Bible. Others doubt that Jesus said the words the Gospels attribute to Him.

When I began teaching biblical literature nine years ago, my social and spiritual views were both quite liberal and ill-informed. Despite 18 years of Adventist education, I didn't know the Bible very well.

However, when I was truly converted that semester as a result of studying the Bible for class, things changed. I began judging everything according to a literalistic approach to biblical interpretation. Every action, every thought, was concrete. The Bible told me so. Calling sin by its right name was easy, no matter whom I offended.

Since then I've devoted my time to studying theology. I soon graduated from popular religious books to more technical works. I studied biblical languages, social history, archaeology, and rules of interpretation.

Most of my friends are Adventist theologians. Some are conservative, some centrist, and some more liberal. At times the more conservative discuss who is "sound" and who isn't. This makes me uncomfortable, especially if they are talking about my friends. The more liberal, meanwhile, sometimes sneer at the naïveté of those conservatives.

However, most of the theologians I know suffer from a disease I'll call theologian's syndrome. It's not generally fatal, but it can be painful, or at least make one uneasy. It is contagious. I rarely see it among pastors, though some catch it at the seminary. It seems to afflict primarily those who constantly study theology.

Theologian's syndrome makes it more difficult to see things concretely. When we read a Bible passage, we know what the words are in Hebrew or Greek. We know when a word's meaning is not nearly as clear as it seems in English. We know when archaeological discoveries have revealed previously unknown facts about Israelite culture that make the meaning of some texts less clear than we had thought.

The problem is not that theologian's syndrome steers us wrong, but that it adds a complexity to everything, which can paralyze us. Those with theologian's syndrome may love God with all their hearts, but doing so takes more faith than is required of those who are less well trained.

Because theologian's syndrome is contagious, theologians have to be careful, lest they spread it to their students. Some who have tried to vaccinate students by helping them understand how to maintain faith despite uncertainty have been accused of teaching heresy, when what they are really doing is being honest. It's not easy not to say what you believe when you teach.

I've found that my own case of theologian's syndrome makes me better able to minister to students from liberal churches, but sometimes worries the fundamentalists in class. My classes are still full, but there are more "sinners and tax collectors" than there used to be, and fewer "Pharisees."

I used to equate theological liberalism with lifestyle laxity. It's not that easy, though.

Some of the most notable liberal scholars lived lives of strict piety and service to others, even as they wrote books that questioned the Bible's inerrancy. Consider, for example, Albert Schweitzer, who left his academic career to become a missionary doctor in Africa, or Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who wrote his book The Cost of Discipleship in a Nazi-era prison cell.

I'm now less concerned about whether a person is liberal or conservative than about whether the person is trying to walk with God. I'm tired of conservatives who are quick to condemn and don't care about those in need. I'm tired of liberals looking for lifestyle loopholes rather than loving the lost. I'm tired of name-calling and finger-pointing. I want to judge people by their fruit, not their leaves. In the end, I think, salvation depends on what team we're on, not on whether we can pass a theology exam.

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Ed Christian teaches English and biblical literature at Kutztown University of Pennsylvania. His e-mail address is: christia@kutztown.edu.