This exists in the splendid Ambrosian codex, and is read in Muratori, volume IV of the Anecdota, page 102. Sometimes, brethren, when we preach, our discourse seems to very many too harsh, and the things which we set forth according to the rule are so received by some as if they were uttered out of the austerity of our severity. For they say, 'How harshly and bitterly the bishop preached,' not knowing that for priests necessity is greater than will. Necessity, I say, of speaking is greater—not that the will of pursuing the truth is lacking, but because the silence of keeping quiet is driven off by the penalty appointed. We suffer necessity while we fear, and on this account we are compelled to be able rather than to wish, and we impose upon others what is to be dreaded, while we ourselves dread for our own salvation.
This, moreover, is the condition of the preacher: that he not keep silent about another's sins, if he wishes to avoid his own sins, and that he amend his brother by rebuking, so that in himself he may not lose the priest. Otherwise, if he chooses to dissemble, to be silent, to conceal, both by keeping silent he does not correct that man, and by not preaching he despises himself. It is better, therefore, to amend sin by rebuking than to take upon oneself the offenses of the sinner by keeping silent. For in this we are placed, that if we do not tell those who transgress of their crimes, the guilt of those very crimes may involve us also. For thus indeed the Lord says through the prophet: 'And you, son of man, I have set you as a watchman for the house of Israel, and you shall hear the word from my mouth, when I say to the sinner:'
'You shall die the death, and you do not speak, that the wicked may beware of his way—that same iniquitous man shall die in his iniquity, but his blood I will require at your hand' (Ezekiel 3), and the rest. A sentence plainly evident and manifest, which stains the watchman with the blood of the criminal because he kept silent; nor is it content that the wicked man's own iniquity condemns him, unless it also declares him guilty who was unwilling to rebuke that same iniquity. See, therefore, how great an evil belongs to the transgressor: the transgressor himself sins, and the priest is accused. He butchers himself by his own offenses, and from the hand of the bishop the blood is required.
We must therefore speak and cry out, lest on the day of judgment that same sinner excuse himself by our silence, and lest he who dissembles to be a partaker of holiness then be charged as an associate of error. 'And you, son of man,' he says, 'I have set you as a watchman for the house of Israel.' What is a watchman? A watchman is surely he who, standing as it were in some lofty citadel, looks out over the people lying near, lest any enemy suddenly creep upon them, but taking anxious care of them, the people may enjoy the sweetness of peace; who, if he suddenly catches sight of anything adverse, straightway may point it out and steadfastly announce it, so that both the citizen may be prepared to guard against the danger, and the enemy, detected, may flee.
But if, when the adversary presses, the watchman dissembles, keeps silent, neglects his duty, then it comes to pass that the people are taken unawares, and the enemy, coming upon them, runs riot; and therefore all the fault is ascribed to him who was unwilling to speak in order to save the many, but preferred to be silent so that he himself might perish along with the many. Whom, then, do we say to be these watchmen appointed by the Lord, if not the most blessed priests, who, set as it were in some lofty citadel of wisdom for the protection of the peoples, behold from afar the evils that are coming, and, still stationed at a distance, contemplate the future punishments—not by the sight of the carnal eye, but by the gaze of spiritual prudence? And therefore they cannot keep silent, but are compelled to cry out, lest through silence the enemy the devil invade the flock of Christ.
For behold, we foresee the day of judgment coming, and by our very thought we already ratify the punishments of sinners. And therefore we announce to each one that he turn himself away from the way of his impiety: namely, to the drunkard, that he pursue sobriety, since to drunkenness luxury is a hostile companion; to the miser, that he distribute his money, lest by guarding it—not for use but for worship—he seem to have riches; for whoever loves a thing, this he worships, protects, and in a certain way venerates. See, then, O miser, lest the little vessels of your table become for you an idol, while you use them not as a master, but keep them hidden away as a slave.