I did, and, frankly, I wish I'd given it a miss. I know I'm supposed to be mesmerized by the repetition and led to an elevated emotional state, but I just couldn't get into it. I found Satyagraha pretentious and tedious. The libretto is made up of lines from the Bhagavad-Gita, sung in Sanskrit with no subtitles on the screen (someone at the Met decided the words would be a distraction). Occasionally a line of text would be projected onto the stage, in English; those lines did have subtitles...also in English. We were treated to such profundities as "Working is more excellent than doing nothing."
There was more going on visually in this production than anything else -- giant puppets, newspapers that served many purposes, people on stilts. Some of it reminded me of the "experimental theatre" staging back in the 60s, but it was all necessary as there was virtually no action for the singers to perform. What action was done, was done in slow motion. Take a slow step, pause, pause some more, now a little more, take another step, etc.; you can eat up ten minutes just crossing the stage that way. The opera is made up of a series of tableaux rather than following a linear plot, which would be fine if you knew what the tableaux represented. For instance, Ghandi makes his first appearance crumpled on the floor next to a suitcase. The audience is supposed to know he has just been tossed off a train for refusing to ride in the back with the rest of the Indians because he'd bought a first-class ticket. You really have to do your homework for this one. I didn't, and so I missed a lot.
Richard Croft has a beautiful voice, and I think all the singing was good; it was a little hard for me to tell. I marveled at the singers' ability to keep track of exactly how many times to repeat a phrase. Ghandi sings the last notes in the opera, a five-note ascending phrase that he sings thirty times in succession. My apologies to any Glass enthusiasts here, but I just couldn't take this opera seriously.