The Know has been bombarded with mail (most of it mass produced, therefore less than persuasive) and promises of protest since they announced production of a script that some religious groups consider blasphemous. McNally presents Jesus and his disciples as a band of gay men. (See "Second Coming," issue of June 11-17, 2003.) They discover a miracle-working Messiah among themselves and embrace the love-one-another teachings of Joshua (Jesus) while rejecting self-serving religious institutions that claim ownership of Christ and sole interpretive control over his words.

At Thursday's opening, about 60 protesters, some saying The Rosary, marched in a circle near the entrance to the theater at Gabriel's Corner -- named for the Angel Gabriel sculpture on the spire of the church in which the theater is located. A capacity crowd of 150-plus packed the sweltering theater, playgoers outnumbering protesters three to one.

Some 20 minutes into the 100-minute performance, a youngish male jumped to his feet, shouting at the cast. I made out the word "blasphemy." The performance barely faltered. The audience noted the intrusion, but seemed unperturbed. Security guards quickly removed the protester and three other people. A Know administrator swore that the interruption was neither expected nor staged.

Otherwise the performance played out in the vigorous, well-pointed, visually and vocally varied patterns director Michael Burnham schooled into his cast of 13. They are named here alphabetically, as in the program, and complimented for both the energy and intelligence of their individual performances and for the synergy they create: Brian Anderson, Sal Cacciato, Sunshine Cappelletti, Dan Davidson, Chris Guthrie, Derek Hake, Darryl Hilton, Rob Jansen, Ghillian Porter, Matthew Pyle, Morgan Rosse, Jim Stump and Liz Taylor. In critical scenes each actor becomes one of the 13 attendees at The Last Supper. All play many other parts as well. Things move well until a danced sequence after The Last Supper drifts out of focus. Some final moments seemed hurried, jerky and under-rehearsed.

McNally is a seriously able playwright who has earned Tony Awards, a Pulitzer and an Emmy. He has dealt with gay-themed material in the past, going back to his Broadway comedy success, The Ritz (1975), and including his AIDS-related investigations in Lips Together, Teeth Apart (1991) and Love! Valour! Compassion! (1994). He had not before been so on-purpose confrontational as he is in Corpus Christi.

Protesters at the door have nothing on a playwright whose work is a passionate protest against intolerance and narrow interpretation of gospels which, he argues, are nobody's property and remain open to the free interpretation of anyone who embraces them. The difference between the protest on the stage and the protest on the sidewalk is intent. McNally wants to discuss issues and alter opinions with reason. The marchers outside want to stifle debate and impose opinions.

Corpus Christi begins with a moving series of "baptisms" in which Joshua greets each actor by his or her real name, welcomes them into the world's family and "christens" them with one of the Apostles' names. Men and women play male and female roles interchangeably. A man, for example, plays the mother of Joshua beautifully. Three "schoolboys" who torment Joshua for being gay are played by women, the heat of their hatred intensified by the cross-casting.

Most controversial of all McNally's speculations are those about the love-hate, fear-trust, good-evil, ying-yang aspects of the relationship he supposes between Jesus and Judas. His characters are true intimates of spirit and, in a larger sense, the darkness and lightness inside one individual.

Most powerful and damning of all the play's images is the final one, which for the benefit of future audiences cannot be detailed here. Jesus hangs dead on his cross, not as a murdered hero but as a clownish symbol distorted by rituals that pretend to celebrate his life.

"Look what you've done to him," someone says ruefully.