For a story.

Zelda laid the sheer black veil over her head, the lace creating a pattern of pitch roses over her golden hair. She straightened her shirt and smoothed out the skirt, then stepped into the church. It was mostly empty, only a couple of old ladies sitting in the front pues. She walked down the side of the church to a pue halkfway up to the altar. Her gaze found the red candle, then dropped to the lavishly decorated tabernacle nestled in an alcove behind the altar. A small smile found her lips as she lowered to one knee. Her head bent to rest her forehead on her knee for just a moment, then she stood again and slipped into the pue.
She let down the kneeler and settled onto the padding. She drew the crystal-beaded rosary from her pocket, then leaned her elbows against the back of the pue in front of her and began to pray.
Thirty minutes passed, and the first few parishoners began to filter into the church. A few of them muttered to each other, a group of them sprawled out in the pue in front of Zelda. She peeked open an eye at them and let out a small sigh. She tried to keep going, but as more and more came into the church, the distraction became too great. She pocketed the rosary, crossed herself, and sat back in the pue.
Instead, she watched them. They were laughing and carrying on, walking back and forth from pue to pue to say hi to their friends. They stood with their backs to the altar, and most of them weren't even trying to keep their voices down. By the time it was five minutes 'till Mass, the din that had distracted her prayers had grown to a dull roar. Finally, Zelda could stand it no longer.
She rose to her feet and stepped out of the pue, at once dropping to one knee and bowing her head to the tabernacle. She stood again and slowly began walking up to the front of the church. No one noticed her or paid her any mind. They just went on with their conversations and jokes. She even saw a couple of kids eating snacks. Her hands instinctively clenched into fists, but she forced them open again before stepping around the first pue. What must be said must not be said in anger, she reminded herself.
Though there was no anger, there was still passion, and frustration, and no doubt that her words would be heard. But would they listen? She stood up in front of the atar, genuflecting once more to the tabernacle. "Forgive me for this, my Lord," she muttered, before standing and turning to face the congregation. A few noticed her, and those few quieted, but she barely noticed with the noise the rest made,.
"Enough!!" she cried out into the church. That single word echoed through the massive building, and many, though not all, of the conversations stopped. Not satisfied with only divided attention, she cried out again. "I said enough! Be quiet, all of you!" The rest were silenced, and all eyes turned to the front. Much better.
"Where do you think you are!? The movie theater? You come in and make as much noise as you want until the show starts? Well, I've got news for you! You're not here to be entertained!" The accoustics in the church were as such that a whisper on the altar could be heard from the klast pue as though it were said right in your ear. Her yelling made them all wince, though many of them winced not only at the volume of the words, but at the words themselves.
"If you knew a king of some foreign country was coming to stand before you, would you act this way? Better yet, would you dress the way many of you are? Would you laugh and carry on, as though nothing incredible was about to happen? If not a king, then what about the bishop, or the Pope? Would you behave for the man Christ appointed as our shepherd? If you can behave for His disciple, then why not Christ Himself?!"
She looked out at them, no anger in her eyes. Rather, there was paint, sadness, a deep suffering as though from the face of God. "You genuflect, though some of you don't even do that, and yet you don't seem to realize why. If you knew, would you act the way you do? Don't wait for a man to show up before you begin to pay attention!" She turned sideways and pointed up past the altar to the tabernacle. "Christ is here every day! Every second of every minute of every hour, He sits here, present so that we may be close to Him. You would behave for a man, but He is your God! And yet you talk and carry on as though he is not even here! If you must talk, do it outside of the church, before or after you come in here. Many of you are talking to people you see every day, and will probably see again later this very morning! But Jesus Christ has been sitting here, waiting for you all to come see Him, and you act as though He isn't even here! Your God became a man and died for each and every one of you so that by accepting Him, you may live forever! The LEAST He asks of you is to sit with Him, for one hour of one day each week. He asks that you listen to Him, and give Him a chance to listen to you and your prayers. When has that ever been too much to ask?"
She fell into silence and looked out at them. Some were crying, some staring in surprise, some in disbelief. A couple lowered their kneelers and sank to them, which initiated a wave of the rest following suit. And so they prayed.
A smile crept onto her face and the weight rose from her shoulders. A couple of tears escaped her eyes and she turned back to the tabernacle. She genuflected, forehead bowed to her knee. "Thank-you," she whispered, "for guiding my tongue." She then stood and began the walk back to her seat.