Critics of the Book of Mormon are often guilty of “parallelomania” to “prove” that the Book of Mormon derived, in part, from sources such as Ethan Smith’s View of the Hebrews and other works. For a good overview, see:
Jeff also has a wonderful satirical page, using the parallelomania of much anti-Mormon “literature” on this issue, by “proving” Leaves of Grass (1855) is the best source for the 1830 Book of Mormon:
For more, see Benjamin McGuire’s papers:
For a contrast to the parallelomania of the critics, McGuire has shown that the Book of Mormon uses the A-source, but never the post-exilic B-source, of 1 Sam 16-18. For a fuller discussion, see:
While reading Robert M. Price, Bart Ehrman Interpreted: How One Radical New Testament Scholar Understands Another (Durham, N.C.: Pitchstone Publishing, 2018), it struck me that some of Price’s (lousy) “parallels” between ancient texts and the New Testament are just as “convincing” as those of Broadhurst, the Tanners, Persuitte, and others.
For instance, in an attempt to explain the origin of Luke’s account of Paul’s conversion in the Acts of the Apostles, Price writes:
First, it seems plain as soon as one reads the texts in question, that Luke has borrowed freely from two well-known literary sources, Eurpides’ Bacchae and 2 Maccabees’ story of the conversion of Heliodorus. From 2 Maccabees Luke has borrowed the basic story of a persecutor of the people of Go being stopped in his mission by a vision of heavenly beings (3:24-26), thrown to the ground in a faint, blinded (3:27), and cared for by righteous Jews who pray for his recovery (3:31-33), whereupon the ex-persecutor converts to the faith he once tried to destroy (3:35) and begins witnessing to its truth (3:36). Given Luke’s propensity to rewrite the Septuagint, it seems special pleading to deny that he has done the same in the present case, the most blatant of all.
From the Bacchae, Luke has derived the core of the Damascus Road epiphany, the basic idea of a persecutor being converted despite himself by direct fiat of the god whose followers he has been abusing. King Pentheus has done his best to expel the enthusiastic Maenads of Dionysus from Thebes, against the counsel of Cadmus, Teiresius, and other level heads who warn him not to be found fighting against a god (Teiresius: “Reckless fool, you do not know the consequences of your words. You talked madness before, but this is raving lunacy!” lines 357-360, Dionysus: “I warn you once again: do not take arms against a god.” 788-789. “A man, a man, and nothing more, yet he presumed to wage war with a god.” 636-637; c.., Acts 5:33-39). He ought to mark how the Maenads, though they may seem to be filled with wine, are really filled with divine ectasy (“not, as you thin drunk with wine,” 686-687); c.f., Acts 2:15), as witnessed by the old and young among them prophesying (“all as one, the old women and the young and unmarried girls,” 693-694; c.f., Acts 2:17-18) and the harmless resting of tongues of fore upon their heads (“flames flickered in their curls and did not burn them,” 757-758; “tongues of fire,” 623-624; c.f., Acts 2:3). Pentheus remains stubborn in his opposition, arresting the newly-arrived apostle of the cult, who turns out to be Dionysus himself, the very son of god, in mortal disguise.
After an earthquake frees him from Pentheus’ prison (585-603; c.f., Acts 16:25-34), Dionysus strolls into Pentheus’ throne room and mocks him (“If I were you, I would . . . not rage and kick against necessity, a man defying god.” 793-796; c.f., Acts 26:14), offering Pentheus the chance to find the outlaw disciples in their secret hideaway. Pentheus may see them at their sport, but he must go in drag, wearing their distinctive doeskin costume (912-916; c.f., Acts 9:26-30). He mesmerizes Pentheus into agreeing to the plan (922-924; c.f., Acts 9:17-18), and no sooner does he prettify himself than he has become a true believer despite himself (929-930). But the joke’s on him, since Dionysus sends him to his doom: he knows Pentheus will be detected and torn limb from limb by the frenzied Maenads. Such poetic justice! The poor fool could dish it out but not take it! He wanted to persecute the Maenads? Let him! He’ll see how it feels from the standpoint of the persecuted! He becomes a true believer only to suffer the fate of one. And so does Paul. In light of the parallels with the Bacchae (Dionysus to Pentheus: “You and you alone shall suffer for your city. A great ordeal awaits you. But you are worthy of your fate.” 963-964), we can at long last catch the awful irony of Acts 9:16: “I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name!” Paul, a conscript despite himself, will find his punishment fitting his crime: he will suffer as a member of the same persecuted community against whom he himself had unleashed such violence. (pp. 93-95)
As one final example, on pp. 121-22, Price offers this “parallel”:
The Request of James and John (Mark 10:32-40)
The whole episode comes right out of the story of Elisha’s request of Elijah just before his ascension, only Mark’s version reflects badly on James and John. The structure is exactly the same. As they travel, Jesus announces for the third time his impending death and resurrection, prompting the brothers to venture, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we may ask of you . . . Grant that we may sit in your glory, one at your right, one at your left” (Mark 10:35, 37). This comes from 2 Kings 2:9, “Ask what I shall do for you before I am taken from you.” Hearing the request, Elijah reflects, “You have asked a hard thing” (v. 10), just as Jesus warns James and John, “You do not know what you are asking for.” The Elijah-Elisha story cements the “apostolic succession” form the one prophet to the other whereas Mark’s rewrite seems to pass over the two disciples to open the possibility of succession to anyone willing to follow Jesus along the way to martyrdom.
Remove the Old Testament material, and you’ve got nothing left.
If one is left unimpressed with such parallels, one should be unimpressed with many of the parallels critics draw between the Book of Mormon and other texts—they are often as strong as one another (read: very lame at best).