Twas several nights past Christmas on a farm in the Appalachian mountains. I’d traveled to a remote holler in Eastern Kentucky along with a couple dozen other college students from around the country to spend the week serving the poor. By day, we visited several folks, pounded a few nails and served some food. But the lessons seemed to come by night when we gathered around the fire to talk about the day and sing folk songs.

There was this guy I didn’t know from Adam Sandler. He played guitar, one of his favorites being a Neil Young tune with the refrain: “Love is a rose, but you better not pick it, only grows when it’s on the vine./Handful of thorns and you know you missed it, lose your love when you say the word mine.”

Turns out the guy was a priest, a Glenmarian by the name of Jerry Dorn. And a dead ringer for John Belushi. Same face, same build. Same crazy humor.

The laughs, jokes and stunts flowed freely from Father Jerry. One night, he charged around brandishing a fire torch like a battering ram, taking aim at a van, the farmhouse, our group. With each near miss, we split a gut laughing. Was as funny as any samurai skit.

But Father Jerry had a serious side, too. That’s what I remember best. As the night got late and the talk grew serious, we college students reflected on our purpose. Jerry Dorn already had it figured out. “I want to become a better lover,” he said. “To love each person I meet. That’s what Jesus did.”

It was that simple. It was that difficult.

Yet Father Jerry managed to pull it off. Even his humor touched others. He was the kind of person whom you walked away from feeling better for having encountered. He was living that love.

Seventeen years have passed since I met that crazy priest, but I know I’ll never forget him. Nor will I forget his words. Nor his love.

It would be unfair to say I learned the meaning of life—to become a better lover—exclusively from Jerry Dorn. I’ve been fortunate to have countless others cross my path bearing that same message. Some have come and gone quickly; others, like my parents, have walked beside me since day one. Even though they may not have put it into words, they’ve acted it out, shown me that our purpose is to love one another, just as Jesus said—and does.

I’m especially grateful for all those people and the love they’ve shown me. Thank you, Jerry Dorn. Thank you, Mom and Dad. Thank you, Jesus.

We can probably never thank those who’ve loved us often enough, but the best way to express our gratitude is to pass it on. To become a better lover.

This story first appeared as John Rosengren’s syndicated column for Catholic News Service. It is reprinted here with permission. John, a full-time writer, lives with his wife and two children in Minneapolis. His new book, Meeting Christ in Teens: Startling Moments of Grace, was recently published by St. Mary’s Press.